FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


So  32- 


. 


2.+ 


' 


IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND; 


OR  , 


26  1937    k 


Sketches  of  <J5ngli0l)  Scenery 


AND    SOCIETY. 


BY 


A  .     CL  E  VELAND     C  O  X  R  , 


RECTOR  OF  GRACE  CHURCH,  BALTIMORE. 


When  I  travelled,  I  saw  many  things ;  and  I  understand  more  than  I  can  cr  prist. 

Ecoi.ua.  xxxiv.  l!. 


Neto-llorli : 

DANA      A  XL)      CO  "M  P  A  N  Y  , 

No.     3  8  1      B  R  O  A  D  W  A  Y  . 


18  5  6. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855, 

By  DANA  &  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


K.    C.  VALENTINE, 
Stkreottper  and  El  eotrottpi st,  GEO    RDSSELL  &  CO.,   Printers, 

IT  Dutch  st.,  cor.  Fulton,  61  E^ekman-strect,  K.  Y. 

New  Yore.. 


THE  REV.  JOSEPH  OLDKNOW,  M.  A., 

OF     CHRIST'S      COLLEGE,      CAMBRIDGE, 

PERPETUAL    CURATE    OF    HOLY    TRINITY    CHAPEL, 
BORDESLEY,    BIKMINOHA.M, 

IN    GRATITUDE    FOR    HIS    FRIENDSHIP, 

AND    AS    A    MEMORIAI 

OF    HAPPY    DAYS    AND    NIGHTS    AT    BORDESLEY, 

I    DEDICATE   THESE    SKETCHES. 

A.  C.  C. 

Baltimore,  1855. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/sketchengOOcoxe 


PREFACE 


The  following  sketches  pre-suppose,  on  the  part  of  the 
reader,  a  familiarity  with  English  subjects,  and  with  the 
geography,  history  and  literature  of  England.  The  writer 
has  endeavored  to  avoid  the  common-places  of  travel,  and  has 
made  no  allusion  to  topics  which  are  generally  understood, 
such  as  the  petty  annoyances  one  meets  at  hotels,  and  the  cold- 
ness and  phlegm  of  fellow-travellers.  He  has  also  forborne 
to  dwell  on  the  greater  evils  of  English  society,  because 
these  have  been  thoroughly  discussed  and  exposed,  as  well 
by  Englishmen  as  by  foreigners.  Besides,  our  countrymen 
are  kept  constantly  in  view  of  that  side  of  the  matter,  and 
there  would  be  no  relish  of  novelty  to  excuse  him  for 
treating  them  afresh  to  whole  pages  made  up  of  the  un- 
trustworthy statistics  of  Dissenting  Almanacs,  and  the  rant 
of  Irish  members  of  Parliament.  Although  English  trav- 
ellers  have  often  dealt  unfairly  with  us,  he  prefers  to  show 
his  dislike  of  such  examples,  by  forbearing  to  imitate  them. 
Nor  does  he  regard  a  different  course  ^  due  to  his  love  of 
country.  A  clergyman  who  A  -  )tes  his  life  to  the  holiest 
interests  of  his  native  land,  and  who  daily  thinks,  and 
prays,  and  toils,  and  exhorts  others,  in  behalf  of  her  wants 
— alike  those  which  are  purely  religious  and  those  which 


VI  PREFACE. 


pertain  to  letters,  to  education  and  to  society  in  general — 
may  surely  excuse  himself  from  vociferous  professions  of 
patriotism.  He  freely  avows  his  love  of  country  to  be 
consistent  with  a  perception  of  her  faults  and  deficiencies, 
and  mainly  to  consist  in  a  high  appreciation  of  her  many 
advantages  ;  in  a  sense  of  responsibility  for  the  blessings 
of  which  she  has  made  him  partaker  ;  and  in  a  studious 
desire  always  to  remember  what  is  due  to  her  reputation, 
so  far  as  his  humble  share  in  it  may  be  concerned.  "Whether 
at  home  or  abroad,  he  would  endeavour  so  to  act  as  never 
to  disgrace  her  ;  but  he  cannot  sympathize  with  the  sort 
of  patriotism  which  rejoices  in  the  faults  of  other  countries, 
or  which  travels  mainly  to  gloat  over  them.  L^ast  of  all, 
can  he  share  in  any  petty  comparisons  of  our  ourselves 
with  our  mother  country.  If  there  be  Englishmen  who 
take  any  pleasure  in  our  defects,  he  is  sorry  for  their  nar- 
rowness ;  if  any  American  finds  satisfaction  in  this  or  that 
blemish  of  English  society,  he  cannot  comprehend  it.  He 
considers  a  sacred  alliance  between  the  two  countries  emi- 
nently important  to  mankind  ;  and  he  who  would  peril 
such  interests,  for  the  sake  of  some  trivial  matter  of  per- 
sonal pride,  must  be  one  of  the  most  pitiable  specimens 
of  human  nature,  be  he  American  or  Briton. 

He  has  aimed,  therefore,  to  present  his  countrymen  with 
a  record  of  the  pleasures  which  travel  in  England  may 
afford  to  any  one  pre-disposed  to  enjoy  himself,  and  able  to 
appreciate  what  he  sees.  He  confesses,  also,  that  he  has 
the  rather  confined  himself  to  an  exhibition  of  the  bright 
side  of  the  picture,  because  he  fears  that  many  of  his 
countrymen  are  sceptical  as  to  its  existence.  He  suspects 
that  Americans  too  commonly  go  to  England  prepared  to 
dislike  it,  and  soon  cross  the  channel  determined  to  be 
happy  in  France, 


PREFACE.  Vll 

As  a  great  measure  of  his  own  enjoyment  depended 
upon  the  fact,  that  he  mingled  freely  with  English  society, 
he  thinks  it  proper  to  say  that  he  owed  his  introductions 
chiefly  to  a  few  English  friends  with  whom  he  had  cor- 
responded for  years  beforehand.  He  supplied  himself 
with  very  few  introductions  from  his  native  land,  and 
even  of  these  he  presented  only  a  part ;  and  in  accepting 
civilities  he  was  careful  to  become  indebted  for  them, 
only,  when  he  had  a  prospect  of  being  able,  in  some 
degree,  to  return  them.  As  the  inter-communion  of  the 
Churches  tends  to  make  the  interchange  of  hospitalities 
more  frequent,  he  was  the  rather  desirous  in  nothing  to 
presume  on  the  good- will  at  present  existing ;  the  abuse 
of  which  will  certainly  defeat  the  ends  for  which  it  has 
been  so  generously  promoted. 

Having  given  years  to  the  study  of  the  British  Consti- 
tution, and  to  the  Literature  and  Religion  of  England,  he 
has  for  a  long  time  been  accustomed  to  watch  its  politics, 
and  its  public  men.  He  has,  therefore,  spoken  of  several 
public  characters,  both  Whigs  and  Tories,  in  a  manner 
which  their  respective  admirers  will  hardly  approve,  but,  as 
he  believes,  without  prejudice,  and  as  a  foreigner  may  do, 
with  more  freedom  than  a  fellow-subject.  In  such  expres- 
sions of  personal  opinion  he  has  given  an  independent  judg- 
ment, and  he  is  very  sure  that  many  of  his  English  friends 
will  be  sorry  to  see  some  of  his  criticisms  on  their  leading 
statesmen.  It  is  but  just  to  them  to  say,  that  in  remarks 
on  the  Sovereign,  and  her  amiable  Consort,  the  writer  has 
spoken  entirely  for  himself,  and  with  a  freedom,  in  which 
their  loyalty  and  affection  never  allow  them  to  indulge. 
He  believes  that  an  impartial  posterity  will,  nevertheless, 
sustain  the  views  with  respect. to  political  matters  which 
he  has  expressed,  and  he  considers  it  part  of  the  duty 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

of  a  traveller,  in  detailing  his  impressions,  to  be  frank  on 
such  subjects,  in  avowing  "how  it  strikes  a  stranger." 

He  desires  also  to  confess  another  purpose,  in  preparing 
and  publishing  this  little  work.  He  has  aimed  to  present, 
prominently,  to  his  readers,  the  distinguishing  and  char- 
acteristic merits  of  English  civilization.  Innumerable 
causes  are  now  at  work  to  debase  the  morals  of  our  own 
countrymen.  With  the  contemporaries  of  Washington, 
that  high  social  refinement  which  was  kept  up  amid  all 
the  evils  of  our  colonial  position,  has  well-nigh  passed 
away.  The  dignity  of  personal  bearing,  the  careful  civil- 
ity of  intercourse,  and  the  delicate  sense  of  propriety  which 
characterized  the  times  of  our  grandfathers,  have  disap- 
peared. The  vulgarizing  influences  of  a  dissocial  sectari- 
anism are  beginning  to  be  perceived.  The  degrading 
effects  of  sudden  wealth ;  the  corruptions  bred  of  luxury ; 
the  evils  of  a  vast  and  mongrel  immigration  ;  and  not 
least,  the  vices  communicated  to  our  youth,  by  contact 
with  the  Mexican  and  half- Spanish  populations  contiguous 
to  our  southern  frontier  ;  all  these  corrosive  elements  are 
operating  among  us  with  a  frightful  and  rapid  result.  The 
contrast' with  such  tendencies,  of  the  sober  and  compara- 
tively healthful  progress  of  society  in  our  ancestral  land, 
the  writer  supposes,  cannot  but  be  acceptable  at  least  to 
those  of  his  countrymen  who  deprecate  this  deterioration, 
and  who,  for  themselves  and  their  families,  are  anxious  to 
cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  those  domestic,  educational 
and  religious  institutions  which  have  given  to  England 
her  moral  power  and  dignity  among  the  nations  of  the 
civilized  world. 

These  sketches  were  originally  contributed  to  the  New- 
York  Church  Journal,  but  are  here  given  in  a  revised  and 
complete  form.     They  are  a  record  of  the  memorable  year 


PREFACE.  IX 

1851 — a  year  to  which  English  history  will  look  back  as 
the  last,  and  the  full-blown  flower  of  a  long  peace.  The 
revival  of  the  imperial  power  in  France,  at  the  close  of 
that  year,  has  opened  a  new  era  in  Europe,  the  effects 
of  which  upon  the  British  Empire  can  hardly  be  foreseen. 

A.  C.  C. 
Baltimore,  1855. 


TABLE  OF   CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

Holyhead — Incidents  of  the  Voyage — Oxford  stage-coach  and  Stratford 
guide-post — Easter-bells  and  Easter  solemnities — An  Elizabethan  Mansion — 
A  Roger-de-Coverley  picture  in  real  life — A  Fancy  Chapel — An  old  fashioned 
Vicarage. 


CHAPTER   II. 

Aspect  of  a  Cathedral-town — Litchfield  Cathedral  its  injuries  and  restora- 
tions— St.  Chad,  and  Stowe-Church — Lord  Brooke,  his  sacrilege  and  retri- 
bution— Dr.  Johnson  and  his  penance — The  Three-Crowns  Inn — Evening 
Service  at  the  Cathedral — A  Midland-countv  custom. 


CHAPTER    III. 

Brummagem  Bishops — American  oak  in  King  Edward's  School — New- 
England  in  Deritend — Oscott — Italian  Catholicity — Pugin  and  the  Papists — 
The  Oratory  and  Mr.  Newman — An  Oratorian  Sermon — Romish  Methodism. 


CHAPTER    IY. 

Scene  at  a  London  Railway  Station — A  drive  to  Pall-Mall — Whitehall  and 
Hungerford  Bridge — The  new  Bishop  of  Lincoln — The  S.  P.  G.  House — 
Nell  Gwynne — Westminster  Abbey — The  Jerusalem  Chamber — Lord  John 
Thynne — The  Coronation  Vestments. 


X!l  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    V. 

Historic  Scenes  in  Westminster  Hall — The  Scene  it  presents  in  our  days 
— The  New  Palace  and  Victoria  Tower — The  silent  Highway — Lambeth 
Palace — Chelsea,  and  Martin  the  painter — Whitehall  Palace  and  Garden — 
Oratorio  at  Chelsea — Sara  Coleridge  and  other  members  of  the  poet's  family. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Bury  Street,  St.  James — The  Lungs  of  London — Riding  in  Rotten-Row — 
First  view  of  the  Crystal-palace — The  venerable  S.  P.  G. — The  Bishop  of 
Oxford — First  glimpse  of  Oxford — Cuddesdon  Palace — A  Sermon  at  St. 
Ebbe's — A  country  Church — Bishop  Lowth's  Epitaph  on  his  daughter. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Forest-hill — A  walk  in  the  country — Miltonian  scenery — Mary  Powell's 
birth-place — A  dame's  School — Milton's  Well — A  neat-handed  Phillis — 
Elucidations  on  the  spot — Sir  William  Jones. 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

Oxford — William  of  Wykeham — Xew  College  and  its  Gardens — Magda- 
len— Addison's  Walk — Scene  in  the  Convocation-house — May-morning 
hymn  on  Magdalen  Tower — Scenery  of  the  surrounding  country — Morning- 
bells  and  a  walk  in  the  College-grounds. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

The  Queen's  Progress  to  the  Crystal-palace — The  mob  in  the  Park — The 
Queen's  return — Her  appearance  at  Buckingham  Palace — Americans  at  a 
discount — The  interior  view  of  the  Great  Exhibition — A  high-priced  day  and 
a  low-priced  day — The  end  of  the  bubble — Jack  in  the  Green. 


CONTENTS.  Xlll 

CHAPTER   X. 

The  Chapel  Royal  of  St.  James — The  Duke  of  "Wellington  at  his  prayers 
— The  Sermon — The  Duke  at  the  Holy  Communion — St.  Paul's  Cathedral — 
How  it  compares  with  St.  Peter's — Effect  of  the  Choral  Service — Dean  Mil- 
man — St.  Barnabas ',  Pimlico,  and  its  Medievalisms — Fashion  at  St.  George's 
— The  Bishop  of  Nova-Scotia. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

Ramblings  in  London — All-hallows,  Barking — First  view  of  the  Tower — 
The  Sovereigns  on  horseback — Historical  relics — The  Armada  and  its  cargo 
— The  block  and  the  axe — The  jewel-room — Laud  and  Strafford — Prison- 
ers' inscriptions — The  graves  in  the  Tower-Chapel — The  Traitors'  gate. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

House  of  Commons — Message  from  the  Lords — DTsraeli — Lord  John — 
The  Speaker— The  Abbey  and  Whitehall  at  dead  of  night— The  Papal  Ag- 
gression— The  course  of  the  Whigs  with  the  Papists— The  Irish  Brigade — 
Lord  John  and  DTsraeli  in  a  personal  debate — Feebleness  of  Ministerial 
measures. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Decorations  of  the  House  of  Lords — Their  wholesome  moral — The  future 
of  the  new  Chancer — The  Aristocracy — Manners  in  Parliament — The  Lord 
Chancellor  Truro — The  London  Police — Their  impartiality. 


XIV  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


Exhibitions  of  Art — Westminster  Bridge — Lambeth — A  wherry  on  the 
River— Temple  Gardens  and  Church— Twelfth-Night — To  the  ball  on  the 
dome  of  St.  Paul's — Descent  to  the  Crypts — Nelson's  Tomb — The  Thames 
Tunnel — Shipping. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

The  Cries  of  London — Covent  Garden  Market — The  Savoy — St.  Clement 
Danes  and  Dr.  Johnson — Anecdote  of  Johnson  at  Temple-bar — Lincoln's 
Inn— Heralds'  College— The  Times— The  Old  Bailey— A  Trial  for  Murder— 
A  Visit  to  the  Dead — Milton's  Grave — Grub-street — Chaucer's  Tabard. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Charms  of  Society  in  London — The  London  Season — Breakfast-parties— 
Oining  out — Children  at  the  Dessert — Evening-parties — Historical  Costumes 
—A  literary  party  at  Lady  Talfourd's — Influence  of  high  refinement  on  indi- 
vidual character — Pronunciation — A  breakfast  at  Samuel  Rogers'. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

Exeter  College,  Oxford — A  Sunday  at  Oxford — Common-room  of  Oriel — • 
Visit  to  Nuneham  Courtenay — Parish-school — Society  in  Oxford — Life  of 
an  Oxonian  Fellow — A  visit  to  Dr.  Routh — Relics  of  L^ud — Oxford  Mar- 
tyrs— Libraries  and  Museum — Chapel  of  Merton — A  boat-race. 


COXTEXTS.  XV 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Iffley  Church — Radiey,  and  a  walk  through  Bagley  wood — Making  a  Doc- 
tor of  Divinity — A  drive  through  the  country — Parish-stocks — Incidents  of 
the  journey — Old  villages — Descent  into  the  Vale  of  Glouc^ter — A  picture 
in  real  scenery. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

"Worcester  Cathedral — Coaching  to  Malvern — Great  and  Little  Malvern  — 
Tewksbury — Wars  of  the  Roses — Bredon — Sunday  at  Kemerton — May's 
Hill — The  Cuckoo — Gloucester — The  Church  at  Highnara — Architectural 
beauty  of  Gloucester  Cathedral — Effect  in  twilight. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

The  Old  Palace  of  St.  Jam?s — Preparations  for  going  to  Court — The 
procession  of  carriages — The  Presentation — The  Queen  and  Prince  Albert — 
A  drawing-room — The  Ladies — Decorations  of  the  royal  apartments — Por- 
traits in  the  Corridor — Reflections. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A  visit  to  Harrow  Weald — Ascension  Day — Oak-leaves  in  honor  of  the 
Restoration — Cricket — Evening  Service,  and  a  remarkable  Sermon — Co. en- 
try—Peeping  Tom  and  Lady  Godiva— Kenilworth— The  rains— Guy'a 
Cliff —  Piers  Gaveson — Warwick  Castle. 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XX J 1. 

Stratford-upon-Avon — The  Red-Horse  Inn — Geoffrey  Crayon — The  Birth- 
place of  Shakspeare — New-Place — Walk  to  Shottery — The  Churchyard — 
The  Church  and  Tomb — The  Epitaph  of  Shakspeare's  daughter — Influence 
of  the  Church  on  the  mind  of  Shakspeare. 


CHAPTER    XXI II. 

Nottingham — Lord  Byron's  reputation — The  Castle — Derby — The  Wye 
— Haddon  Hall — Gallery — Chapel — Chatsworth — Matlock — Bath — Shrews- 
bury —A  Sedan-chair — Welsh  Emigrants — Chester — Eaton-Hall. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

St.  Winifred's  Well— The  Vale  of  Chvyd— Rhuddlan—  St.  Asaph— A 
Welsh  Inn — Welsh  hospitality — The  Welsh  service  in  a  rural  Church — The 
Holy  Clerk  of  Llanerch — Mrs.  Hemans — St.  Mary's  Well — Conway  Castle. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

Bangor — Menai  Straits,  and  a  Trip  to  Caernarvon — Llanberis  andDolbordan 
— Caernarvon  Castle — The  Eagle  tower — Xant  F  franc  on — Capel  Curig — Cor- 
wcn — Yalle  Crucis — Llangollen — Miss  Ponsonby  and  Lady  Eleanor  Butler. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

Gypsies — The  Man  of  Ross — Market  day — Monmouth — Tintern  Abbey  in 
a  storm — A  Vicar's  children — The  Wind-cliff — Tintern  in  sunshine — The 
Severn — Clifton,  Bristol  and  St.  Mary  Redcliffe — Chatterton — Bristol  Ca- 
thedral— Mrs.  Mason's  tomb — A  dissenting  minister — His  charity. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

Glastonbury — King  Arthur's  coffin — Restorations  at  Wells — Ordination 
at  Brad  field — Solemnities  of  the  Jubilee — "Willis's  Rooms — A  Centenarian 
—  Speeches  at  St.  Martin's  Hall — The  Archbishop  in  his  Study — The  Jubi- 
lee Sermons — Samuel  Warren. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

Jubilee-service  at  the  Cathedral — A  Lord  Mayor's  Feast — Lord  Glenelg— 
Eaton  College — St.  George's  Chapel  and  Windsor  Castle — A  Dame's  House 
A  swim  in  the  Thames — Hampton  Court — Pictures  and  Cartoons — Hurs- 
Ley  Church,  and  the  Poet  Kehle — Winchester  School — St.  Cross  Hospital — 
Relics. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

Winchester  Cathedral — Wykeham  and  Wayneflete — Cardinal  Beaufort — 
Bishop  Fox — Stephen  Gardiner — The  Altar — Reliquary  chests — Izaak  Wal- 
ton— An  American  Vicar — His  ingenuities — Salisbury  Plain  and  Stonehenge 
—George  Herbert— Netley  Abbey— The  Isle  of  Wight— Portsmouth— Chi- 
chester— Brighton. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

St.  Augustine's,  Canterbury — Queen  Bertha's  Church — The  Patriarchal 
Cathedral — Becket — The  Black  Prince — Archbishop  Howley — The  Dane 
John — Drive  to  Borne — The  Judicious  Hooker — One  of  the  Squirearchy — 
Rochester — Westminster  Archives — Chapel  of  Henry  VII. — Grave  of  Addi- 
son— British  Museum — Richmond  Hill — Thomson's  grave — Pope's  skull. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

The  Encoenia  at  Oxford — The  uproar — Bedford  and  John  Bunyan — Fourth 
of  July — The  gates  of  Caius — Comparison  of  the  two  Universities — Chan- 
cellor Albert— Old  Hobson— The  Isthmus  of  Sues— Milton's  Mulberry— The 
small  Colleges — The  Fitzwilliam — King's  College — Trinity. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Ely  Cathedral — Its  beautiful  restorations — Peterborough — The  graves  of 
two  Queens — A  King  of  Spades — Lincoln  and  Bishop  Grostete — The  Ca- 
thedral— Jews'  House — The  City  of  Constantine — York  Minster — Ripon — 
Fountains'  Abbey — Durham — The  Bishop  of  Exeter — The  University — 
Newcastle — Amen  Corner. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

Return  from  Scotland — Gretna  Green — Carlisle — The  Lakes — "Windermere 
— Dr.  Arnold's  enthusiasm — An  American  Sunday  and  an  English  one — 
Grassmere — A  Poet's  Widow — A  walk  to  Keswick — Cockney  rhetoric — Der- 
wentwater — A  poet's  sepulchre — Penrith — The  Countess'  Pillar — Dotheboys 
Hall— Rokebv— Kirkstall  Abbey. 


CHAPTER     XXXIV. 

A  pilgrimage  to  Olney — Cowper's  services  to  Literature — Anti-Snobbery 
— Cowper's  pedigree — A  lace-maker — Olney  bridge — The  Summer-house — 
Weston  Underwood — The  Wilderness — Cowper's  Autograph  and  Adieu — 
The  Greek  Slave — White-bait  at  Greenwich — The  prime  meridian — The 
pensioners — Good-night. 


CONTEXT?.  XIX 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

Return  from  the  Continent — Despatches — England  and  Southern  Eu- 
rope— The  Sepulchre  of  Andrew es — Westminster  by  Candlelight — St.  Bar- 
tholomew's, Moor-lane — The  Anglican  Reformers — Superficial  views  of 
travellers — Dissent  in  England — Tithes — The  late  Recusancy — Newman 
and  the  Dublin  Review — The  English  Bible — Conclusion 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 


CHAPTER     I 


First  and  Second  Thoughts — A  Warwickshire  Welcome. 

About  noon,  one  hazy  April  day,  I  found  myself  approaching 
the  British  coast,  and  was  informed  by  the  Captain  of  our  gal- 
lant steamer,  that  in  a  few  minutes  we  should  gain  a  glimpse  of 
the  mountains  of  Wales.  Instead  of  rushing  to  the  ripper-deck, 
I  found  myself  forced  by  a  strange  impulse  to  retire  to  my 
state-room.  For  nearly  thirty  years  had  my  imagination  been 
fed  with  tales  of  the  noble  island  over  the  sea ;  and  for  no  small 
portion  of  that  period,  its  history  and  its  institutions  had  been  a 
favorite  subject  of  study.  To  exchange,  forever,  the  England  of 
my  fancy  for  the  matter-of-fact  England  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, was  something  to  which  I  was  now  almost  afraid  to  con- 
sent. For  a  moment  I  gave  way  to  misgivings ;  collected  and 
reviewed  the  conceptions  of  childhood ;  and  then  betook  myself, 
solemnly,  to  the  reality  of  seeing,  with  my  own  eyes,  the  land  of 
my  ancestors,  in  a  spirit  of  thankfulness  for  so  great  a  privilege. 
I  went  on  deck.  There  was  a  faint  outline  of  Snowdon  in  the 
misty  distance ;  and  before  long,  as  the  mist  dispersed,  there,  just 
before  us,  was  the  noble  brow  of  Holyhead. 

It  reminded  me  of  the  massive  promontory  opposite  Breakneck, 
as  we  descend  the  Hudson,  towards  West  Point :  but  the  thought 
that  it  was  another  land,  and  an  old  as  well  as  an  ancestral  one, 
strangely  mingled   with   my    comparative   memories   of    home. 

1 


2  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

There  is  something  like  dying  and  waking  to  life  again,  in  leaving 
our  home,  and  committing  one's  self  to  such  a  symbol  of  Eternity 
as  the  Ocean,  and  then,  after  long  days  and  nights,  beholding  the 
reality  of  things  unknown  before,  and  entering  upon  new  scenes, 
with  a  sense  of  immense  separation  from  one's  former  self.  Op- 
pressive thoughts  of  the  final  emigration  from  this  world,  and  de- 
scrying, at  last,  "  the  land  that  is  very  far  off,"  were  forced  upon 
me.  We  doubled  the  dangerous  rocks  of  Skerries,  and  began  to 
coast  along  the  northern  shore  of  Anglesea  :  and  then,  with  my  per- 
spective-glass, I  amused  myself  contentedly,  for  hours,  as  I  picked 
out  the  objects  presenting  themselves  on  the  land.  Now  a  wind- 
mill, now  a  village,  and  now — delightful  sight — a  Christian  spire  ! 
It  was  night-fall  when  our  guns  saluted  the  port  of  Liverpool, 
and  our  noble  steamer  came  to  anchor  in  the  Mersey. 

Our  voyage  had  been  a  very  pleasant,  and  a  highly  interesting 
one.  Extraordinary  icebergs  had  been  visible  for  several  suc- 
cessive days,  and  had  given  us  enough  of  excitement  to  relieve 
the  tediousness  of  the  mid-passage.  Our  two  Sundays  had  been 
sanctified  by  the  solemnities  of  worship ;  and  the  only  mishap  of 
our  voyage  had  been  such  as  to  draw  forth  much  good  feeling, 
and  to  leave  a  very  deep  impression.  One  of  the  hands  had  been 
killed  by  accidental  contact  with  the  engine,  and  had  been  com- 
mitted to  the  deep  with  the  Burial  Service  of  the  Church,  in  the 
presence  of  all  on  board.  A  handsome  purse  was  immediately 
made  up  for  the  surviving  mother  of  the  deceased ;  and  the  pain- 
ful event  tended  greatly  to  the  diffusion  of  a  fraternal  sympathy 
among  the  entire  company.  We  became  as  one  family :  and 
now,  before  retiring  for  the  night,  I  was  requested,  by  those  who 
remained  on  board,  to  offer  a  solemn  thanksgiving  to  Almighty 
God,  for  our  safe  deliverance  from  the  perils  of  the  sea.  This  ii 
gave  me  pleasure  to  do ;  and  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  rose  in 
our  evening  devotions,  "  Then  are  they  glad  because  they  are  at 
rest ;  and  so  he  bringeth  them  unto  the  haven  where  they  would 
be."  The  noble  vessel  in  which  we  had  accomplished  our  voyage 
now  lies  many  fathoms  deep  in  the  sea.     It  was  the  Arctic. 

On  landing,  in  the  morning,  I  inwardly  saluted  the  dear 
soil,  on  which  I  was  permitted  at  last  to  place  my  feet,  and  on 
which  I  could  not  feel,  altogether,  a  foreigner.  I  ran  the  gaunt- 
let of  tide-waiters,  and  the  like,  without  anything  to  complain  of, 
and,  after  a  bath  at  the  Adelphi,  made  my  way  to  St.  George's 
Church.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  I  joined  in  the  worship  of  our 
English  Mother ;  though  it  was  difficult  to  conceive  myself  a 


HOLY-WEEK.  1$ 

stranger,  until  the  expression — ;;  Victoria,  our  Queen  and  Gov- 
ernor"— recalled  the  fact  that  I  was  worshipping  with  the  sub- 
jects of  an  earthly  Sovereign,  as  well  as  among  my  brethren  of 
the  glorious  City  of  God. 

A  letter  awaited  me  at  the  Post  Office,  which  invited  me  to 
spend  my  rest-days  with  a  dear  friend.  So,  after  a  hasty  survey 
of  Liverpool,  which  I  did  not  care  to  inspect  minutely,  I  took  an 
early  evening  train  for  Warwickshire,  and  was  soon  speeding 
athwart  highways,  and  through  hedges,  towards  my  friend's  abode. 
Even  my  glimpses  of  England,  from  the  flying  carriage,  were 
enough  to  occupy  my  mind  delightfully:  and  often  did  some 
scene  upon  the  road-side,  or  in  the  sprouting  fields,  recall  inci- 
dents of  history,  or  passages  of  poetic  description,  which  filled 
me  with  emotion,  and  greatly  heightened  my  preconceptions  of 
the  pleasures  before  me,  in  the  tour  which  I  thus  began. 

So  it  happened  that  my  first  night  on  shore  was  passed  beneath 
the  roof  of  a  pleasant  English  parsonage.  My  host  had  been, 
for  years,  my  correspondent,  and  though  we  had  never  met  be- 
fore, we  counted  ourselves  old  friends.  My  bed-room  had  been 
prepared  for  me,  and  furnished  with  such  things,  in  the  way  of 
books  and  the  like,  as,  it  was  fancied,  would  Miit  my  tastes.  One 
window  overlooked  the  Church  ;  and  another,  over  the  church- 
yard, and  its  green  graves,  commanded  a  pretty  view  of  the  fields. 
It  was  the  Holy  Week.     I  was  waked  every  morning  by  the  bell 

for  early  prayers.     The  Bishop  of  W had  sent  me  his 

permission  to  officiate,  and  when  I  went  to  Church,  it  was  always 
as  a  priest  of  the  One  Communion.  I  was  at  home:  as  much 
so  as  if  I  had  lived,  for  years,  in  the  house  where  I  was  a  guest. 
We  kept  the  holy  time  together,  and  limited  our  diversions  to 
pleasant  and  somewhat  professional  walks.  We  visited,  for  ex- 
ample, a  parochial  establishment,  in  which  some  twenty  widows 
were  lodged,  by  the  benevolent  charity  of  an  individual.  Every 
widow  had  her  own  little  cottage,  and  the  entire  buildings  en- 
closed a  square,  in  which  was  their  common  garden.  There  was 
also  a  small  chapel ;  and  in  each  little  home  there  was  a  text  in- 
scribed over  the  fire-place,  encouraging  charity,  forbearance,  and 
love  to  God.  Here  was  a  quiet  Beguinage,  built  many  years  ago, 
and  never  heard  of:  but  there  are  many  such,  in  England,  dear 
to  God,  and  the  fruits  of  his  Church.  I  visited  also  a  school 
founded  by  King  Edward  Sixth  ;  and  having,  on  my  first  landing 
at  Liverpool,  paid  a  visit  to  its  Blue  Coat  Hospital,  founded  by  a 
prosperous  seaman  of  the  port,  and  furnishing  a  noble  example  to 


4  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

all  sea-port  cities,  I  had  seen  not  a  little  to  charm  me  with  the 
religion  of  England,  before  I  had  been  a  week  on  her  shores. 
Our  quiet  walks  through  lanes  and  by-paths,  were  not  less  grati- 
fying in  their  way.  The  hedges  and  the  fields,  gardens  and  resi- 
dences, the  farms  and  the  very  highways,  were  full  of  attractions 
to  my  eye,  and  the  more  so,  because  my  companion  seemed  to 
think  he  could  find  nothing  to  show  me !  He  knew  not  the 
heart  of  an  American,  fond  of  his  mother  country,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  coming  into  contact  with  old-fashioned  things. 
A  heavy  wagon,  lumbering  along  the  road  to  market,  and  in- 
scribed, "  John  Trott,  Carrier,  Ashby-de-la-Zouche  " — was  enough 
to  set  me  thinking  of  past  and  present,  of  the  poetiy  of  Ivanhoe, 
and  the  prose  of  a  market- wain ;  and  when  I  saw  a  guide-post, 
which  for  years  had  directed  travellers  "  To  Stratford,"  only 
twenty  miles  off,  I  could  almost  have  bowed  to  it.  A  stage 
coach  came  along,  bearing  "Oxford"  on  its  panels;  and  the 
thought  that  it  had  started  that  very  morning  from  the  seat  of  the 
University,  and  had  raised  the  dust  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  made 
its  wheels  look  dignified.  To  enjoy  England  one  must  be  an 
American,  and  a  hearty  and  earnest  member  of  the  Anglican 
Church.  Even  the  cry  of  "  hot  cross  buns,"  which  waked  me 
on  Good  Friday  morning,  reviving  the  song  of  the  nursery,  and 
many  more  sacred  associations  with  the  day,  made  me  thankful 
that  I  was  no  alien  to  the  spirit  of  the  solemnities,  which  even  a 
traditionary  cry  in  the  streets  tends  to  fasten  upon  the  heart  and 
conscience  of  a  nation. 

Easter  morning  came  at  last,  and  I  was  up  with  the  sun,  and 
out  for  a  walk.  It  came  with  a  bright  sunrise,  and  many  cheer- 
ful notes  from  morning  birds.  I  was  confident  I  heard  a  lark 
singing  high  up  in  the  air,  for  though  I  could  not  see  the  little 
fellow,  I  could  not  mistake  the  aspiring  voice.  His  Easter  Carol 
was  a  joyous  one,  and  I  set  it  to  the  familiar  words — 

Christ,  our  Lord,  is  risen  to-day, 
Sons  of  men  and  angels  say  ! 

The  hedges  were  just  in  leaf:  here  and  there  the  hawthorn  had 
blossomed,  but  the  weather  was  too  cold  for  its  silvery  beauty ; 
and  one  almost  pitied  the  few  adventurous  flowers,  that,  like  good 
Churchmen,  seemed  only  to  have  come  out  in  conscientious  re- 
gard to  the  day.  I  finished  my  morning  walk  by  a  turn  or  two 
through  the  church-yard,  every  grave  of  which  was  sparkling 
with  dews,  illuminated  by  the  Easter  sun.     How  forcibly  the 


EASTER   SUNDAY.  5 

scene  represented  the  resurrection:  "The  dew  of  thy  birth  is  of 
the  womb  of  the  morning." 

As  I  entered  the  parsonage,  I  heard  the  bells  chiming  from  a 
distant  parish  church.  My  reverend  friend  met  me  with  the  sal- 
utation— "  the  Lord  is  risen  ;"  to  which  I  could  not  but  fervently 
respond  in  the  same  primitive  spirit.  We  had  a  festal  breakt'a-t. 
after  family  prayers,  and  soon  it  was  time  for  service.  I  could 
willingly  have  been  a  worshipper  in  private,  but  submitted  to  the 
authority  of  the  parson,  and  became  one  of  his  curates  for  the 
day.  We  emerged  from  the  Yestry  in  due  order  of  the  Psalm- 
ist— "the  singers  going  before,"  men  and  boys  alike  in  surpli- 
ces ;  the  latter  with  red  cheeks,  and  white  ribbons  to  tie  their 
collars,  looking  like  little  chubby  cherubs,  and  when  they  lifted 
their  voices,  sounding  still  more  like  them.  The  chancel  was 
neatly  decorated ;  a  few  flowers  placed  over  the  altar,  and  an 
inscription  on  its  cloth,  "  I  am  the  Bread  of  Life."  With  the 
choral  parts  of  the  service  I  was  surprised,  as  well  as  delighted. 
Boys  and  men  all  did  their  parts,  in  a  manner  which  would  have 
done  honor  to  the  authorities  of  a  Cathedral,  and  I  observed  that 
the  congregation  generally  accompanied  the  choir,  especially  the 
children  in  the  galleries.  I  had  never  before  heard  the  Athana- 
sian  Hymn  as  part  of  the  regular  Service,  and  I  was  greatly  im- 
pressed by  its  majestic  effect.  After  the  2s  icene  Creed,  I  ascended 
the  pulpit,  and  preached  "  Jesus  and  the  Resurrection,"  and  then, 
returning  to  the  Altar,  celebrated  the  Holy  Eucharist,  accord- 
ing to  the  English  rite,  administering  to  my  reverend  brethren 
and  the  lay-communicants.  To  this  high  privilege  I  was  press- 
ingly  invited  by  the  pastor  himself,  in  token  of  entire  communion 
with  the  Church  in  America;  and  thus  I  was  able  to  join  my 
personal  thanksgivings  for  the  mercies  of  a  voyage,  and  my 
prayers  for  my  absent  flock  and  family,  to  a  public  exercise  of 
the  highest  functions  of  my  priesthood,  at  the  altar  of  an  English 
Church. 

The  many  incidents  of  the  day,  which  afforded  me  ever  fresh 
delight,  might  lose  their  charm,  if  reduced  to  narration,  or  might 
strike  the  reader  as  proofs  of  my  facility  to  be  gratified.  But  I 
cannot  but  mention  that,  strolling  away,  in  the  afternoon,  to  see 
how  service  was  performed  at  another  Church,  I  was  gratified  to 
find  it  filled  with  devout  worshippers  of  the  plainer  sort,  atten- 
tively listening  to  a  very  excellent  sermon,  appropriate  to  the 
day.  \Yhile  the  preacher  was  warmly  enlarging  upon  the  prom- 
ise of  a  glorious  resurrection,  and   I  was  quite  absorbed  in  his 


6  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

suggestions,  I  suddenly  caught  a  glimpse,  among  the  crowd  of 
worshippers,  of  a  figure  which  startled  me,  as  forcibly  illustrative 
of  the  words  of  the  preacher,  "  thy  dead  men  shall  live.'  It 
was  the  recumbent  effigy  of  an  old  ecclesiastic  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  which  I  had  not  observed  before.  As  if  listening  to  the 
preacher,  in  joyful  hope,  there  it  lay  upon  the  tomb,  hands 
clasped  placidly  together,  and  looking  steadfastly  towards  heaven  ! 
How  it  seemed  to  join  the  hopes  of  the  dead  with  those  of  the 
living,  and  to  give  force  to  every  word  which  fell  from  the  pulpit 
concerning  the  glory  which  shall  be  revealed  to  all  those  who 
sleep  in  Jesus  ! 

With  Easter-Monday  our  holidays,  in  the  school-boy  sense, 
began.  My  reverend  friend  proposed  a  visit  to  the  Vicar,  to 
whose  patronage  he  owed  his  own  incumbency  of  the  Chapel  of 

the  Holy  Trinity,  in  B .      Off  we  started  on  foot,  passing 

through  the  suburbs  of  a  populous  town,  and  finally  emerging 
into  the  open  country.     We  came  suddenly  in  sight  of  the  old 

Church  of  A ;  its  beautiful  spire  and  gables  admirably 

harmonizing  with  the  surrounding  view,  and  telling  a  silent  story 
of  long  past  years.  Beyond  it,  a  majestic  avenue  of  elms  dis- 
closed at  its  extremity  a  mansion  of  Elizabethan  architecture  and 
date ;  not  the  less  reverend  in  my  associations  for  the  fact  that 
Charles  the  First  slept  in  it  just  before  Edgehill  fight,  and  that  a 
cannon-ball,  still  lodged  in  the  stair-case,  attests  the  perilous  hon- 
or which  his  Sacred  Majesty  was  thus  pleased  to  bestow  on  its 
occupant.  The  solemn  dignity  of  an  old  English  residence  of 
this  kind,  had  heretofore  been  to  me  a  thing  of  imagination ;  now 
it  was  before  my  eye,  not  a  whit  less  pleasing  in  its  reality.  The 
rooks  were  chattering  in  its  venerable  trees,  which  seemed  to 
divide  their  predilections  about  equally  with  the  steeple ;  and  I 
am  told  that  they  are  such  knowing  birds,  that  whenever  you  see 
a  rookery,  you  may  be  sure  that  there  is  both  orthodox  faith,  and 
at  least  one  sort  of  good-living  in  the  neighborhood. 

Had  I  challenged  my  friend  to  show  me  a  genuine  Eoger-de- 
Coverley  picture  in  real  life,  as  the  entertainment  of  my  holiday, 

I  must  have  admitted  myself  satisfied  with  this  scene  at  A . 

Not  only  did  the  old  hall,  and  the  church,  in  all  particulars, 
answer  to  such  a  demand  ;  not  only  did  a  river  run  by  the  church- 
yard ;  not  only  were  fields  beyond,  with  cattle  grazing,  corn 
sprouting,  and  hedges  looking  freshly  green ;  but  when  I  entered 
the  church-yard  gate,  lo !  a  rustic  party,  in  holiday  trim,  were 
hanging  about  the  old  porch,  awaiting  the  re-appearance  of  a  bri- 


AN    OLD     CHURCH.  7 

dal  train,  which  had  just  gone  in.  It  wanted  but  the  old  Knight 
himself  and  his  friend  the  Spectator,  to  make  the  whole  scene 
worthy  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

I  entered  the  church,  and  found  it  in  all  respects  just  such  an 
interior  as  I  had  longed  to  see ;  apparently  the  original  of  many 
a  pleasing  print,  illustrating  Irving's  "  Sketch-Book"  and  similar 
works,  the  delight  of  my  childhood,  and  still  affording  pleasure 
in  recollection.  Its  ample  nave,  widened  by  rows  of  aisles,  ter- 
minated in  the  arch  of  a  long  chancel,  at  the  altar  of  which 
stood  not  only  one  matrimonial  couple,  but  actually  five  or  six. 
whom  two  curates  were  busily  uniting  in  the  holy  bonds  of  wed- 
lock. "When  the  procession  returned  from  the  altar,  they  passed 
into  the  vestry  to  register  their  names,  and  one  of  the  curates 
coming  to  the  door  of  the  church,  found  another  group  of  vil- 
lagers, at  the  font,  presenting  a  child  for  baptism.  Following 
my  friend  into  the  vestry,  I  was  presented  to  the  Vicar  himself, 
who  seemed  the  genius  loci  in  all  respects  ;  a  venerable  gray-haired 
old  gentleman,  in  his  surplice,  full  six  feet  in  stature,  and  worthy 
to  sit  for  a  portrait  of  Dr.  RocheelifTe,  in  "Woodstock.  It  was  now 
time  for  service,  and  I  was  desired  to  robe  myself,  and  accompany 
him  into  the  chancel,  two  curates,  the  clerk,  and  some  singers 
leading  the  way.  I  was  put  into  a  stall,  marked  with  the  name 
;ne  outlying  chapelry  of  the  parish,  and  appropriate  to  its 
incumbent  when  present.  The  chancel  was  tilled  with  monu- 
ment, of  divers  ages  and  style-.  At  my  left  hand  lay  the  effi- 
gies of  a  knight  and  his  good  dame,  in  Elizabethan  costume ;  be- 
yond were  a  pair  of  Edward  III.'s  time ;  opposite  were  figures  of 
the 'period  of  Henry  VI.  and  much  earlier;  the  knights  all  in 
armor,  and  some  with  crossed  legs,  as  a  token  that  they  had 
foug;Ti t  in  Palestine.  The  service  was  intoned  by  one  of  the 
curates,  in  a  severe  old  tone,  authorized  in  Archbishop  Cranmer's 
time,  which  the  Vicar  afterwards  assured  me  was  very  ancient, 
and  the  only  genuine  music  of  the  Church  of  England.  "When 
the  service  was  concluded,  there  was  a  churching  to  be  attended 
to,  at  the  south  porch  of  the  church,  and  to  this  duty  one  of  the 
curates  was  deputed,  while  the  Vicar  himself  detained  us  in  the 
chancel  with  an  enthusiastic  antiquarian  illustration  of  the  mon- 
uments, to  which  I  was  a  most  willing  listener.  Here  slept  the 
de  Erdingtons,  and  there  the  Ardens:  such  and  such  was  their 
story ;  and  such  and  such  were  the  merits  of  the  sculpture. 
Chantrey  had  visited  these  figures,  and  assured  him  that  they 
were  the  finest  in  the  kingdom ;  and  if  I  imagined,  at  the  time, 


8  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

that  sucli  was  merely  Sir  Francis'  courtesy  to  the  worthy  Vicar, 
I  hope  I  may  be  forgiven,  for  some  subsequent  acquaintance  with 
such  things  inclines  me  to  believe  the  sculptor  was  sincere.  On 
the  walls  were  the  heavy  tablets  of  the  Hanoverian  period,  and 
our  attention  was  directed  to  the  marked  decline  of  art,  from  the 
period  of  the  Crusades  down  to  the  Georges,  growing  worse  and 
worse  till  George  Fourth's  time,  which  improved  the  existing 
style,  and  was  succeeded  by  a  period  of  rapid  return  to  correct 
taste  and  principle.  Of  all  this  the  Church  itself  bore  witness. 
Here  the  worthy  man  pointed  out  marks  of  its  various  stages  of 
decline  :  here  were  barbarous  repairs  ;  there  a  sad  blunder  of  old 
Church-wardens ;  here  a  wanton  mutilation  of  Hanoverianism  in 
1790,  when  the  very  worst  things  happened  to  the  holy  and  beau- 
tiful house ;  and  there,  at  last,  was  a  tine  restoration  of  our  own 
times. 

We  were  next  conducted  to  the  church-yard,  the  Vicar  having 
doffed  his  surplice,  and  assumed  his  usual  habit,  which  partook  of 
the  dignity  and  taste  of  its  wearer  in  a  pleasing  degree.  His 
hat  was  specially  ecclesiastical,  and  turned  up  at  the  sides,  and 
over  his  cassock  and  bands  he  wore  a  clerical  surtout,  so  that  as 
he  strode  over  the  graves,  in  his  small-clothes,  displaying  a  finely 
proportioned  leg,  his  entire  figure  might  have  been  thought  con- 
temporary with  that  of  his  brother  of  Wakefield.  We  now  learned 
the  history  of  the  Church,  its  great  tithe,  and  its  various  plunder- 
ing under  successive  bad  kings.  We  viewed  the  tower  and  spire 
from  every  possible  point  of  vantage,  and  then  went  round  the 
walls  to  see  where  a  window  had  been  blocked  up,  or  a  doorway 
broken  through,  or  a  pointed  arch  displaced  for  a  square-headed 
debasement  of  the  Tudor  period.  I  never  found  before  so  good 
a  "  sermon  in  stones."  An  ancient  yew-tree  was  pointed  out  as 
having  afforded  boughs,  before  the  reformation,  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  Palm-Sunday.  We  adjourned  to  the  Vicarage,  where 
luncheon  was  served  in  the  Library,  a  room  filled  with  the 
choicest  volumes;  and  then  we  were  dismissed  for  a  walk,  prom- 
ising to  return,  for  our  dinner,  at  five  o'clock. 

Our  road  soon  brought  us  to  E ,  where  a  Romish  Chapel 

had  been  lately  erected,  by  a  man  of  fortune,  in  minute  and  ex- 
travagant reproduction  of  Medievalism.  It  was  a  thing  for  a 
glass  case;  a  piece  of  admirable  art;  a  complete  Pugin ;  and  no 
doubt  in  the  middle  ages  would  have  been  a  very  suitable  thing 
for  its  purposes ;  but,  in  our  day,  it  seemed  as  little  suited  to 
Pome  as  to  Canterbury.     The  Pope  himself  never  saw  such  a 


A  DAYS    RAMBLE.  9 

place  of  worship,  and  would  scarcely  know  how  to  use  it ;  and  it 
was  chiefly  interesting  to  me  as  enabling  me  to  see,  at  a  glance, 
what  the  finest  old  Parish  Churches  of  England  had  been  in  the 
days  of  the  Plantagenets.  At  any  rate,  they  were  never  Triden- 
tine,  and  they  were  always  Anglican.  This  beautiful  toy  had  a 
frightful  Calvary  in  the  church-yard ;  but  the  interior  was 
adorned  with  the  finest  carvings  in  Caen  stone,  and  brilliant  col- 
orings and  gildings  a  la  Froissart.  The  pulpit  was  adorned  with 
the  story  of  Becket,  in  very  delicate  sculpture,  and  around  the 
Church  were  stations,  or  representations  of  the  different  stages  of 
the  Passion,  carved  elaborately  in  wood,  and  beautifully  colored. 
The  Virgin's  Altar  and  Chapel  were  gems  of  art ;  and,  of  course, 
replenished  with  striking  proofs  that  they  "  worship  and  serve  the 
creature  more  than  the  Creator."  I  turned  away  heart-sick, 
that  such  unrealities  of  a  dead  antiquity  could  be  employing  the 
whole  soul  of  any  Englishman,  and  even  tempting  some  into 
apostacy  from  the  simple  but  always  dignified  Church  of  their 
ancestors.  Let  taste  be  the  handmaid  of  religion,  and  all  is  well : 
but  here  was  religion  led  captive  by  antiquarian  fancy. 

Many  other  objects  of  interest  filled  up  our  day.  We  made  a 
complete  circuit,  crossing  green  fields,  leaping  ditches,  and  break- 
ing through  hedges.  Up  hill  and  down  dell,  and  through  fragrant 
country  lanes ;  here  a  river,  and  there  a  pool ;  now  a  farm,  and 
then  a  mill.  Yellow  gorse  was  in  flower  by  the  road-sides.  We 
met  many  parties  of  village  people  enjoying  their  Easter  sports, 
and  dressed  in  holiday  attire.  This  day,  at  least,  it  seemed  merry 
England  still.  We  came  to  Witton  Manor-house,  and  thence 
caught  a  distant  view  of  the  spire,  towards  which  it  grew  time 
to  return.  Immense  elms,  of  darker  look  than  those  of  New- 
England,  beautified  the  view  in  every  direction ;  and  the  land- 
scape was  diversified  by  many  smaller  trees,  marking  the  water- 
courses. We  came  out,  at  last,  by  the  old  Hall,  the  exterior  of 
which  we  closely  examined,  imagining  the  scene  around  its  gates 
when  the  royal  Stuart  came  to  be  its  guest.  Like  many  other 
mansions  of  the  olden  time,  it  is  deserted  now ;  and  the  deepen- 
ing twilight  in  which  we  viewed  it,  harmonized  entirely  with  the 
thoughts  which  it  inspired.  So  we  returned  to  the  Vicarage, 
and  again  were  warmly  welcomed.  At  dinner  we  were  presented 
to  Mrs. ,  the  Vicar's  wife,  who  seemed  to  take  the  liveli- 
est interest  in  my  country  and  its  Church,  and  kindly  to  appre- 
ciate my  own  enjoyment  of  the  events  of  the  day.  After  dinner 
the  Vicar  lighted  his  long  pipe,  and  continued  his  exceedingly 

1* 


10  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

interesting  discourse  about  the  olden  time.  I  could  see  that  he 
was  no  admirer  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
I  had  met  a  laudator  temporis  acti,  whose  character  and  venerable 
appearance  gave  him  a  right  to  lament  the  follies  of  our  own  age  ; 
and  seldom  have  I  enjoyed  more  keenly  any  intellectual  treat 
than  I  did  his  arm-chair  illustrations  of  past  and  present,  as  com- 
pared together.  On  his  favorite  topics  of  Church-music  and 
Architecture  he  was  very  earnest  and  intelligent.  The  North- 
amptonshire Churches,  he  assured  me,  were  the  finest  in  England  ; 
and  kindly  introducing  me  to  the  summa  fastigia  rerum,  he  took 
me  to  the  very  garret,  to  hunt  up  some  superb  plates  of  his  favor- 
ite localities.  When  I  bade  adieu  to  this  Vicarage,  it  was  as  one 
leaves  an  old  friend.  Such  hospitality,  and  such  heart  afforded 
to  a  stranger !  Thus  early  had  I  found  that  old  English  man- 
ners are  not  yet  extinct,  and  that  the  fellowship  of  the  Church 
admits  even  a  foreigner  to  their  fullest  enjoyment.  It  was  eleven 
o'clock  when  we  reached  the  no  less  hospitable  home  from  which 
I  started  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTEK    II. 


Easter  Holidays — Lichfield  and  Dr.  Johnson. 

My  reverend  friend  accompanied  me  to  Lichfield,  as  our  occu- 
pation for  Easter-Tuesday;  kindly  expressing  his  desire  to  have 
a  share  in  the  enthusiasm,  with  which  he  justly  imagined  the  first 
sight  of  an  ancient  cathedral  would  inspire  a  visiter  from  Amer- 
ica. And  although  Lichfield  is  by  no  means  one  of  the  most  im- 
pressive specimens  of  English  cathedral  architecture,  as  it  is  small, 
and  not  very  well  kept,  I  was  very  glad  to  begin  my  pilgrimage  to 
the  cathedrals  with  this  venerable  Church,  the  see  of  the  primi- 
tive and  apostolic  St.  Chad  ;  the  scene  of  some  of  the  most  severe 
and  melancholy  outrages  of  the  Great  Rebellion  ;  and  the  sacred 
spot,  in  which  some  of  the  earliest  and  most  durable  impressions 
were  made  upon  the  character  of  the  truly  great  Dr.  Johnson. 
Familiar  with  all  I  expected  to  see,  so  far  as  books  and  engravings 
could  make  me  so,  it  was  thrilling  to  set  out  for  my  first  visit  to 
such  a  place,  and  I  was  obliged  to  smother  something  like  anxiety 
lest  the  reality  should  fall  far  below  anticipation.  How  would  it 
strike  me,  after  all  ?  I  was  to  tread,  at  last,  the  hallowed  pave- 
ment of  an  ancient  minister,  in  which  the  sacrifices  of  religion  had 
been  offered  for  centuries,  and  occupying  a  spot  which  had  been 
drenched  with  the  blood  of  primitive  martyrs ;  I  was  to  join  in 
the  solemn  chant  of  its  perpetual  services ;  I  was  to  go  round 
about  its  walls,  and  mark  well  its  bulwarks,  and  survey  its 
towers,  and  to  trace  the  tokens  of  those  who  had  once  set  up 
their  banners  there,  and  broken  down  its  carved  work  with  axes 
and  hammers,  and  defiled  the  place  of  its  sanctuary.  No  English 
mind,  to  which  ancient  things  have  been  familiar  from  birth, 
could  possibly  have  appreciated  my  inward  agitation  at  the  pros- 
pect of  such  a  day ;  and,  as  I  took  my  seat  in  the  train,  I  could 
not  but  wonder  at  the  indifference  of  my  fellow-passengers,  to 
whom  booking  for  Lichfield  was  an  e very-day  affair,  and  whose 


12  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

associations  with  that  city  were  evidently  those  of  mere  business, 
and  downright  matter-of-fact. 

The  three  spires,  crowning  the  principal  towers  of  the  Church, 
soon  came  in  sight,  and  beneath  its  paternal  shadow  were  clus- 
tered the  humbler  roofs  of  the  town.  How  like  a  hen  gathering 
the  chickens  under  her  wings,  is  a  true  cathedral  amid  the  dwel- 
lings which  it  overshadows,  and  how  completely  is  its  true  intent 
set  forth  by  this  natural  suggestion  of  its  architecture !  I  had 
never,  before,  seen  a  city  purely  religious  in  its  prestige,  and  I 
felt,  as  soon  as  my  eyes  saw  it,  the  moral  worth  to  a  nation  of 
many  such  cities  scattered  amid  the  more  busy  hives  of  its  in- 
dustry. On  alighting,  I  could  not  but  remark  to  my  companion, 
the  still  and  Sabbath-like  aspect  of  the  city.  "  It  is  generally 
so,"  he  answered,  "with  our  cathedral  towns;  they  are  unlike  all 
other  places."  This  is  their  reproach  in  the  eyes  of  the  econo- 
mist ;  but  such  men  never  seem  to  reflect  that  the  cathedral 
towns  owe  their  existence  to  the  fact  they  are  such,  and  would, 
generally,  have  no  population  at  all,  but  for  their  ecclesiastical 
character.  Why  can  they  not  see,  besides,  that  such  a  place  as 
Lichfield  is  as  necessary  to  a  great  empire,  as  a  Sheffield?  It 
bred  a  Johnson — and  that  was  a  better  product  for  England  than 
ever  came  out  of  a  manufactory  of  cotton  or  hardware.  Proba- 
bly, just  such  a  mind  could  have  been  reared  only  in  just  such  a 
place.  "You  are  an  idle  set  of  people,"  said  Boswell  to  his 
master,  as  they  entered  Lichfield  together.  "  Sir,"  replied  the 
despot,  "we  are  a  city  of  philosophers :  we  work  with  our  heads, 
and  make  the  boobies  of  Birmingham  work  for  us  with  their 
hands.'''' 

But  here  at  length  is  the  cathedral,  and  service  is  going  on ! 
A  moment's  survey  of  its  western  front,  so  old,  so  enriched  with 
carvings  and  figures,  so  defiant  of  casual  observation,  and  so 
worthy  of  careful  study — and  we  pass  inside — and  here  is  the 
nave,  and  the  massive  and  dim  effect  of  the  interior — somehow 
not  all  realized  at  once,  and  yet  overpowering.  We  reach  the 
choir,  and  a  verger  quietly  smuggles  us  within.  After  a  mo- 
ment's kneeling,  we  observe  that  the  Epistle  is  reading,  and  the 
service  about  to  close.  In  a  few  minutes  my  first  impressions  of 
worship  in  a  cathedral  are  complete,  and  they  are  very  unsatis- 
factory. I  had  reached  the  sanctuary  too  late  for  the  musical 
parts  of  the  solemnity,  and  there  was  rather  a  deliciency  than  an 
excess  of  ceremonial,  in  the  parts  I  saw.  A  moment's  inspection 
convinced  me  that  Lichfield  Cathedral  is,  by  no  means,  over- 


BISHOP     HACKET.  18 

worked  by  its  Dean  and  Chapter.  Alas !  I  said  to  myself,  what 
we  could  do  with  such  a  foundation  in  my  own  city,  in  America ! 
We  might  have  such  a  school  of  the  prophets  as  should  be  felt  in 
all  the  land :  we  would  make  it  the  life  of  the  place ;  the  seat  of 
perpetual  preachings,  and  prayers,  and  catechizings,  and  councils ; 
a  citadel  of  power  to  the  faith,  and  a  magazine  of  holy  armor 
and  defences  for  the  Church.  Why  do  not  these  worthy  Canons 
wake  up,  and  go  to  work,  like  genuine  sons  and  successors  of 
St.  Chad? 

We  now  went  the  rounds  of  the  Church,  with  the  stupid 
verger  for  our  orator,  and  I  began  to  experience  the  intolerable 
annoyance  complained  of  by  all  travellers.  "  Oh,  that  he  might 
hold  his  tongue  !  We  know  it — we  know  it — only  let  us  alone, 
and  here's  your  shilling" — said  my  inmost  heart,  a  score  of  times, 
but  still  he  mumbled  on.  He  was  most  impressive  in  detailing 
the  exploits  of  the  Puritans :  here  they  hacked,  and  there  they 
hewed ;  this  was  done  by  Cromwell's  men — when  they  broke 
into  the  old  Bishops'  sepulchres ;  and  that,  when  they  hunted  a 
cat,  with  the  hounds,  through  the  nave  and  aisles.  Here  they 
tooted  with  the  broken  organ  pipes,  and  there  the  soldiers 
mounted  the  pulpit,  and  preached  a  la  Woodstock.  They  went  so 
far  as  to  cut  up  their  rations  of  flesh  meat  on  the  altar,  and  they 
baptised  a  calf  at  the  font ;  but,  enough  ;  mine  eyes  have  seen 
that  there  were  such  men  in  England  two  hundred  years  ago,  and 
oh,  let  us  pray  that  we  may  not  deserve  such  judgments  again. 
It  was  refreshing  to  stop  before  the  tomb  of  Bishop  Hacket,  and 
to  thank  God,  who  put  it  into  his  heart  to  be  a  repairer  of  the 
breach.  The  Bishop  had  his  failings,  but  what  he  did  for  his 
cathedral  should  cover  a  multitude  of  sins,  if  he  had  so  many. 
He  was  the  man  who,  during  the  worst  scenes  of  the  rebellion, 
was  threatened  by  a  soldier  with  instant  death,  unless  he  desisted 
from  the  prayers  which  he  was  then  offering,  in  the  Church  of 
St.  Giles,  Holborn,  and  who  answered,  calmly,  "you  do  what 
becomes  a  soldier,  but  I  shall  do  as  becomes  a  priest,"  and  so 
went  on  with  the  service.  At  the  Restoration,  being  already 
three-score  and  ten,  he  was  appointed  to  this  See.  He  found  the 
cathedral  almost  a  ruin ;  thousands  of  round  shot,  and  hand- 
grenades  had  been  fired  upon  it;  the  pinnacles  were  battered  to 
pieces,  and  the  wralls  and  spires  seemed  ready  to  fall,  while  the 
interior  was  a  mass  of  filth  and  desolation.  The  very  next  day 
after  his  arrival,  he  set  his  own  horses  to  work  in  clearing  away 
the  rubbish,  and  for  eight  years  he  devoted  his  wealth  and  labor, 


14  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

and  made  perpetual  efforts  among  the  zealous  laity  of  the  king- 
dom, to  achieve  and  pay  for  the  restoration  of  the  Church,  which 
he  thus  accomplished.  Finally  he  reconciled  the  holy  place  by 
a  solemn  ceremonial,  and  re-instituted  the  services.  When  he 
heard  the  bells  ring,  for  the  first  time,  being  then  confined  to  his 
bed-chamber,  he  went  into  another  room  to  hear  the  sound ;  but, 
while  he  blessed  God  that  he  had  lived  to  enjoy  it,  said  it  was  his 
knell,  and  so,  soon  after,  died  like  old  Simeon. 

We  paused  before  the  busts  of  Johnson  and  Garrick,  and  the 
monuments  of  Miss  Seward  and  Lady  M.  W.  Montague,  and 
also  before  a  monument  lately  erected  to  some  soldiers  who  per- 
ished in  India,  over  which  the  flags  of  their  victories  were  dis- 
played. The  kneeling  figure  of  the  late  Bishop  Ryder  is  pleasing 
and  appropriate;  but  the  object  of  universal  attraction  is  the 
monument  of  two  children,  by  Chantrey,  so  generally  known 
and  admired  in  prints  and  engravings.  I  cannot  say  that  the 
style  of  this  monument  comports  well  with  the  surrounding  archi- 
tecture, but  in  itself  it  is  beautiful,  and  bespeaks  that  sentimental 
love  of  children  for  which  the  Church  of  England  has  made  the 
English  people  remarkable,  beyond  other  Christian  nations.  The 
epitaph  is  a  sad  blemish,  but  the  reposing  Innocents  make  you 
forget  it.  So  simple  and  sweet  is  their  marble  slumber,  which,  of 
itself,  speaks  "  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life." 

The  cathedral-close  is  open  and  spacious,  and  one  gains  a  very 
good  view  of  the  architecture,  on  all  sides  of  the  exterior.  I  sat 
down  beneath  some  trees,  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  Church, 
and  for  a  long  while  gazed  at  the  old  stones,  from  the  foundation 
to  the  topmost  spire.  They  told  of  centuries — how  mutely  elo- 
quent !  All  was  so  still  that  the  rooks  and  jackdaws,  chattering 
in  the  belfries,  supplied  the  only  sounds.  There  was  the  bishop's 
palace  at  my  right,  the  scene  of  Anna  Seward's  bright  days,  and 
of  some  of  Dr.  Johnson's  happiest  hours.  The  ivy  almost  covers 
its  modest  but  ample  front.  The  close  is  a  little  picture  of  itself; 
too  much,  perhaps,  like  the  swallows'  nests,  around  the  altar,  in 
the  warm  and  inactive  contentment  with  which  it  must  tend  to 
surfeit  any  but  the  most  conscientious  of  God's  ministers. 

On  one  side  of  the  cathedral  is  a  pretty  pool,  and  altogether, 
in  this  point  of  observation,  it  presents  a  beautiful  view.  Swans 
are  kept  in  this  water,  and  go  oaring  themselves  about,  without 
that  annoyance  from  boys  and  vagabonds,  which  prevents  their 
being  kept  in  public  places,  in  our  country.  They  came  famil- 
iarly to  us,  and  even  followed  us  a  long  distance,  as  we  walked 


THE   WELL   OF  ST.    CHAD.  15 

on  the  margin  of  the  pool,  as  if  doing  the  honors  of  the  place 
to  ecclesiastical  visitors.  We  now  took  a  walk  through  the 
meadows,  to  Stowe,  distant  about  half-a-mile,  and  presentiug 
another  pleasant  picture,  with  its  old,  but  beautiful  parish-church. 
Here  we  found  tokens  of  that  work  of  Church  restoration  which 
is  going  on  throughout  all  England,  and  which  will  make  the  age 
of  Victoria  enviably  famous  with  future  generations.  The  little 
Church  was  in.  perfect  keeping,  throughout ;  severely  plain,  but 
strictly  Anglican,  and  full  of  reverend  simplicity.  There  were 
some  pews  in  the  Church,  but  the  new  sittings  were  all  open,  and 
apparently  free.  We  looked  with  some  interest  at  the  monument 
of  Lucy  Porter,  daughter  of  the  lady  who  afterwards  became  the 
wife  of  Dr.  Johnson.  Hard  by  the  Church  is  the  well  of  St. 
Chad,  to  which  I  next  paid  a  visit,  and  from  which  I  was  glad 
to  drink.  It  is  twined  with  roses,  and  neatly  arched  over  with 
masonry,  on  which  is  chiselled  CE.  EP. — that  is,  Ccadda  Episco- 
pus,  and  here,  in  the  seventh  century,  the  holy  man  lived  and 
baptized.  St.  Chad,  though  a  Saxon  by  birth,  was  in  British 
orders,  of  the  primitive  ante-Gregorian  succession,  and  held  the 
See  of  York,  until  his  own  humility,  and  the  Roman  scruples  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  transferred  him  to  Lichfield, 
where  he  lived  the  life  of  an  apostle,  and  from  which  he  itin- 
erated through  the  midland  counties,  very  often,  on  foot,  in  the 
spirit  of  a  truly  primitive  missionary.  It  was  with  exceeding 
veneration  for  the  memory  of  his  worth  and  piety,  that  I  visited' 
this  scene  of  his  holy  life,  and  blessed  God  for  the  mercies  which 
have  issued  thence,  even  to  my  own  remote  country.  Such  are 
the  world's  true  benefactors :  the  world  forgets  them,  but  their 
record  is  with  God  ;  and  He  will  make  up  His  jewels  yet,  in  the 
sight  of  the  assembled  universe. 

Returning,  we  had  the  cathedral  before  us,  all  the  way,  in  truly 
delightful  prospect.  I  observed  the  birds  that  darted  across  our 
path  with  peculiar  pleasure,  and  could  not  but  remark  that  the 
sparrows  were  John  Bull's  own  sparrows,  having,  in  comparison 
with  ours,  a  truly  English  rotundity  and  plumpness,  which  should 
no  doubt  be  credited  to  the  roast-beef  of  Old  England,  and  to 
good  ale,  withal,  or  to  something  equivalent  in  the  diet  of  birds. 
We  now  took  a  turn  into  the  city,  and  first,  went  to  see  the 
house,  in  a  window  of  which  Lord  Brooke  was  seated  when  he 
received  the  fatal  bullet  from  the  cathedral.  It  seems  a  great 
distance  for  such  a  shot ;  and  this  fact  heightens  the  peculiarity 
of  the  occurrence.     There  is  a  little  tablet,  fixed  in  the  wall, 


16  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

recording  the  event.  As  it  took  place  on  St.  Chad's  day,  and  as 
the  shot  was  fired  by  a  deaf  and  dumb  man  in  the  tower,  putting 
out  the  eye  with  which  the  Puritan  besieger  had  prayed  he  might 
behold  the  ruins  of  the  cathedral,  and  killing  him  on  the  spot,  it 
is  not  wonderful  that  the  providence  was  regarded  as  special  and 
significant.  Sacrilege  has  been  dangerous  sport  ever  since  the 
days  of  Belshazzar.  It  was  a  more  gratifying  occupation 
to  seek  next  the  birth-place  of  Dr.  Johnson,  with  which 
pictures  had  made  me  so  familiar,  that  when  I  came  suddenly 
into  the  market-place,  I  recognized  the  house  and  St.  Mary's 
Church,  and  even  the  statue,  all  as  old  acquaintances.  The  pil- 
lars at  the  corners  of  the  house  give  it  a  very  marked  effect,  and 
one  would  say,  at  the  outset,  that  it  must  have  a  history.  It  is 
not  unworthy  of  such  a  man's  nativity.  The  Church  in  which 
the  future  sage  was  christened  is  almost  directly  opposite ;  and  as 
I  came  in  view  of  it,  I  looked  for  its  projecting  clock,  and  found 
it,  just  as  I  had  seen  it  in  engravings.  The  statue  of  Dr.  John- 
son is  placed  in  the  market  square,  just  before  the  house  in  which 
he  first  saw  the  light.  It  was  the  gift  of  one  of  the  dignitaries 
of  the  cathedral  to  the  city.  Did  poor  Michael  Johnson,  the 
bookseller,  ever  console  his  poverty  and  sorrows,  as  he  looked 
from  those  windows  on  a  stormy  day,  with  visions  of  this  tribute 
to  the  Christian  genius  of  his  son?  Perhaps,  just  where  it 
stands,  he  often  saw  his  boy  borne  to  school  on  the  backs  of  his 
playmates,  in  triumphal  procession;  and  this  incident  of  his 
childhood  is  now  wrought  into  the  monumental  stone.  In  an- 
other bas-relief,  he  is  seen  as  a  child  of  three  years  old,  perched 
on  his  father's  shoulder,  listening  to  Dr.  Sacheverel,  as  he 
preaches  in  the  cathedral.  In  a  third  is  illustrated  that  touching 
act  of  filial  piety,  the  penance  of  the  sage  in  Uttoxeter  market. 
For  an  act  of  disobedience  to  his  poor  hard-faring  father,  done 
when  he  was  a  boy,  but  haunting  him  through  life  with  remorse, 
the  great  man  went  to  the  site  of  his  father's  humble  book-stall - 
in  the  market-place,  and  there  stood  bare-headed  in  the  storm, 
one  rainy  day,  bewailing  his  sin,  and  honoring  the  lowliness  of 
the  parental  industry  which  provided  for  the  wants  of  his  dependent 
years.  What  moral  sublimity !  worthy  indeed  of  a  memorial, 
and  doubtless  recorded  in  the  book  of  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to 
take  away  his  sin  ! 

Opposite  St.  Mary's,  and  next  door  to  the  birth-place,  we 
found  the  "  Three  Crowns  Inn,"  where  Johnson  chose  to  stay, 
with  sturdy  independence,  when  he  visited  Lichfield,   refusing 


DK.     J0HX30X.  17 

even  the  hospitalities  of  Peter  Garrick.  I  suppose  the  room  in 
which  we  lunched  was  the  scene  of  another  instance  of  true 
greatness  in  Dr.  Johnson,  who,  with  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman, 
entertained  here  a  friend  of  his  humbler  days,  "whose  talk  was 
of  bullocks,"  and  whose  personal  appearance  was  by  no  means 
agreeable,  but  to  whose  tiresome  volubility,  in  things  of  his  own 
profession,  the  sage  extended  the  most  patient  and  condescending 
attention.  We  could  not  but  drink  our  mug  of  ale  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  immortal  old  man  of  ten  thousand  honest  prejudices, 
and  as  many  virtues  ;  in  whom  ;*  has  been  found  no  lie,"  and  who 
has  made  his  own  massive  character,  in  some  respects,  the  ideal 
of  a  genuine  Englishman. 

We  visited  the  hospital  and  Church  of  St.  John  Baptist,  a 
charitable  foundation  of  an  old  Bishop  of  Lichfield,  who  was 
also  a  munificent  benefactor  of  Brazen-nose  College,  at  Oxford. 
It  is  a  queer,  out-of-the-way,  little  blessing,  of  the  sort  which 
attracts  no  attention,  but  which  bespeaks  a  Church  at  work 
among  the  people,  of  the  like  of  which  England  is  full.  I  was 
much  pleased  with  this  fragrant  little  flower  of  charity,  for  such 
it  seemed,  hiding,  like  the  violet,  out  of  sight,  but  heavenly  when 
discovered.  The  Church  of  St.  Michael,  Green-hill,  next  at- 
tracted me,  standing  on  an   eminence,  and  crowning:  it  with  a 

7  .—  7  © 

conspicuous  tower  and  spire.  An  avenue  of  venerable  elms  leads 
to  its  portal,  and  I  found  it  open.  The  font,  which  is  a  relic  of 
very  high  antiquity,  has  lately  been  restored  to  its  place ;  and 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  nave  is  a  late  restoration.  Here,  then, 
is  another  proof  of  the  revival  of  primitive  life  and  zeal  in  the 
Church  of  England !  And  all  so  truly  national ;  Anglican  and 
yet  Catholic  ;  consistent  with  self,  and  with  antiquity,  and  at- 
testing a  continuous  ecclesiastical  life,  from  the  days  of  Ceadda, 
and  his  predecessors,  until  now. 

The  Evening  Service  at  the  cathedral  was  far  more  gratifying 
than  the  morning's  experience  had  led  me  to  anticipate.  The 
evening  sun  streamed  through  the  windows  of  the  clere-story 
with  inspiring  effect,  and  the  Magnijicat  quite  lifted  me  up  to  the 
devotional  heights  I  had  desired  to  attain,  in  such  a  place.  Then 
came  the  anthem,  suitable  to  Easter-week — "  Worthy  is  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain."  How  amiable  the  beautiful  and  holy 
place  in  which  such  strains  have  been  heard  for  ages !  In  pass- 
ing through  the  streets,  on  my  way  home,  I  saw  one  of  the  pop- 
ular sports  of  the  Easter-holidays,  peculiar  to  the  midland 
counties,  and  a  relic  of  the  many  "frolics  in  use  before  the  Be- 


18  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

formation.  Some  buxom  lasses  were  endeavoring  to  lift,  or 
heave,  a  strapping  youth,  who,  in  no  very  gallant  style,  ■  repelled 
the  embraces  and  salutations  of  his  female  aggressors.  I  take  it 
for  granted,  however,  that  he  was  not  released  until  he  had  been 
handsomely  lifted  into  the  air,  and  made  to  purchase  his  freedom 
by  a  substantial  fine.  This  is  a  custom  confined,  of  course,  to 
the  vulgar — but  even  among  them,  according  to  my  judgment, 
"  more  honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observance." 


CHAPTER    III. 


Birmingham — The  Oratory — Newman, 

Going  up  to  London,  I  tarried  for  a  few  days  at  Birmingham, 
a  town  not  pleasing  to  my  fancy,  and  yet  one  which  no  tourist  in 
England  would  choose  to  omit.  I  found  it.  indeed,  as  Leland 
described  it  three  hundred  years  ago,  "  to  be  inhabited  of  many 
smithes,  that  use  to  make  knives,  and  all  manner  of  cutting 
tooles:  and  many  lorinn-rs.  that  make  bittes.  and  a  great  many 
naylors ;  so  that  a  great  part  of  the  town  is  maintayned  by 
smithes  who  have  their  sea-coal  out  of  Staffordshire."  To  this, 
I  cannot  help  adding,  in  the  style  of  old  Fuller,  that  "  there  be 
divers  many  also  who  do  make  buttons ;  and  a  great  store  of  all 
things  gilt,  and  showy,  and  not  costlie  nor  precious  withal,  do 
come  out  of  Brummagem ;  for  which  also  the  new  bishoppes 
which  Cardinal  Wiseman  did  lately  make  therein,  be  commonly 
called  the  Brummagem  hierarchic,  that  is  to  say,  not  so  much 
Latin  bishoppes  as  Latten  bishops;  latten  being  much  used  in 
Brummagem,  and  is  made  of  stone  of  calamine  and  copper,  or 
chiefly  of  brass."  I  confess  that  good  part  of  my  interest  in 
Birmingham  proper  was  to  see  what  this  new  hierarchy  were 
about. 

The  Town-Hall  has  been  often  enough  described  and  praised, 
and  is,  no  doubt,  very  fine  ;  but  I  did  not  go  to  England  to  see 
Grecian  temples,  and  I  took  much  more  satisfaction  in  any  old 
frame  house  of  three  centuries  ago,  than  in  the  frigid  and  formal 
show  of  all  its  columns. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  King  Edward's  Grammar  School  the 
most  interesting  object  in  the  town.  Though  the  buildings  were 
erected  very  lately,  they  are  in  the  true  academic  style  of  Cam- 
bridge and  Oxford.  The  pile  is  massive  and  impaling,  and  I  was 
pleased  to  find  that  the  solid  oak  of  its  noble  rooms  is  the  produc- 
tion of  American  forests.     Here  I  first  saw  how  English  boys 


20  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

are  made  scholars ;  the  drill  being  obvious  to  even  a  moment's 
glance ;  every  motion  and  look  of  the  masters,  who  walk  up  and 
down  among  the  boys  in  their  college  gowns,  implying  a  discipline 
and  method,  of  which  our  schools  are  too  commonly  destitute. 
Queen's  College  is  also  worthy  of  a  visit,  and  I  was  much  pleased 
with  some  of  the  pictures  which  I  saw  in  its  hall,  among  which 
was  an  old  one  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  representing  her  with 
her  child,  James  Stuart.  Who  ever  conceived  of  Mary  as  a 
motherly  creature,  or  of  the  old  pedant  king  as  an  unbreeched 
boy  ?  Yet  such  were  they  in  this  painting,  which  was  no  doubt 
true,  as  well  as  beautiful,  in  its  time.  With  the  churches  of 
Birmingham  I  was  not  particularly  impressed.  St.  Martin's,  the 
"  old  paroch-church"  of  Leland's  day,  scarcely  retains  any  rem- 
nant of  its  ancient  self,  except  the  spire,  which  leans,  and  seems 
likely  to  fall.  The  sovereign  hill  of  the  town  is  surmounted  by 
St.  Philip's,  which  ought  to  be  a  cathedral,  and  the  seat  of  a 
school  of  the  prophets,  but  which  looks  like  nothing  more  than  a 
plethoric  Hanoverian  temple,  in  which  indolent  and  drowsy 
worldliness  would  be  content  to  say  its  prayers  not  more  than 
once  a  week.  I  was  better  pleased  with  a  church  in  the  suburbs, 
built  in  George  Fourth's  day,  and  partaking  both  of  the  merits 
and  defects  of  that  period  of  transition,  when  the  church  was 
in  palmy  prosperity  as  "the  venerable  establishment."  Here 
first  I  saw  an  English  funeral,  evidently  of  one  of  the  humbler 
class,  all  parties  walking  on  foot,  and  the  coffin  carried  on  a  bier. 
The  curate  met  the  procession  at  the  gate,  in  his  surplice  and 
cap,  and  then  reverently  uncovering  his  head,  led  the  way  into 
the  house  of  God,  the  consoling  words  of  the  service  gradually 
dying  on  my  ear,  as  the  rear  of  the  funeral  train  disappeared 
within.  The  parsonage  is  close  at  hand,  an  ecclesiastical  looking 
house  of  most  appropriate  and  pleasing  aspect ;  and  the  abode,  as 
I  can  testify  from  personal  knowledge,  of  the  true  spirit  of  an 
English  parish  priest — such  an  one  as  Hooker  and  Herbert  would 
have  rejoiced  to  foreknow.  In  his  Church  the  prayers  are  per- 
petual ;  the  fire  never  going  out  on  the  altar,  and  its  gates  stand- 
ing open,  as  it  were,  night  and  day.  The  vicinity  is  known  as 
"  Camp  Hill,"  for  here  was  the  furious  Rupert  once  in  garrison ; 
but  a  queer  old  house,  all  gables  and  chimneys,  is  pointed  out, 
upon  the  hill,  as  the  former  lodging  of  his  redoubtable  adversary, 
old  Noll  himself.  Hence  we  stretch  into  the  country,  and  gain 
those  pleasant  extremes  of  Warwickshire,  which  Leland  noteth, 
not  forgetting  the  return  by  Sandy  Lane,  through  "  Dirty  End," 


VISIT  TO   OSCOT"1.  21 

which,  since  the  days  of  his  chronicle,  is  euphuized  into  Deri- 
tend.  This  place  is  full  of  what  the  Brummagem  Cardinal 
would  call  slums,  and  one  of  them,  as  if  on  purpose  to  affront  a 
portion  of  my  countrymen,  displayed  to  my  astonishment,  on  a 
street  sign,  the  name  of  "New-England."  Did  any  returned 
pilgrim  settle  down  here,  and  give  the  last  retreat  of  his  poverty 
this  name ! 

"  Born  in  Xew-England,  did  in  London  die," 

is  a  well-known  epitaph,  which  may  possibly  explain  this  circum- 
stance ;  for,  said  Dr.  Johnson,  "who  that  was  born  in  New- 
England,  would  care  to  die  there,"  or  words  to  that  effect.  Yet 
I  confess^  for  life  or  death,  I  have  scarcely  seen  any  place  in  our 
own  Xew-England  which  would  not  be  preferable  to  this,  although 
Leland  calls  Dirty  End  "  a  pretty  street  with  a  mansion  of  tym- 
ber  hard  on  the  bank  of  a  brook,  with  a  proper  chapel  close  by." 
Here  I  stopped  before  the  aged  front  of  the  H  Old  Crown  Inn," 
which  I  take  to  be  the  same  "tymber"  mansion,  having  all  the 
odd  corners,  and  juttings-forth,  and  quaint  appurtenances  of  cen- 
turies long  gone  by.  These  out-of-the-way  ramblings  and 
searches  were  far  more  to  my  taste  than  the  gaudy  sights  of  the 
shops  and  manufactories. 

I  went  out  to  Oscott,  and  took  a  survey  of  the  enemy's  head- 
quarters, to  begin  with.  Here  Tridentinism  shows  her  best  front, 
and  yet  it  falls  far  below  what  I  had  been  led  to  expect.  The 
college  is  built  of  brick,  but  is  prettily  situated,  and  commands  a 
fine  view  from  the  leads,  to  which  I  ascended,  for  a  prospect  of 
the  surrounding  country.  There  is  little  architectural  merit  in 
any  part  of  the  structure,  and  the  general  appearance  of  things, 
throughout,  is  below  that  of  collegiate  institutions  in  England, 
or  on  the  Continent.  I  was  pleased,  however,  with  the  rooms 
set  apart  for  ecclesiastical  visitors,  so  far  as  their  furniture  was 
suitable  to  offices  of  private  devotion,  and  not  merely  to  those  of 
rest  and  recreation ;  and  I  was  not  sorry  to  see  in  the  Library 
a  pretty  large  selection  of  standard  English  divines,  though  I  am 
painfully  suspicious  that  they  are  not  there  to  be  freely  used  by 
all  who  would  read  and  study  them.  The  chapel  is  gaudy,  yet  in 
true  Mediaeval  character,  and  somewhat  impressive.  The  other 
rooms  are  labelled — pranso)-iiu?i,  devo'sorium,  and  the  like,  or  sur- 
mounted with  the  names  of  the  divers  arts,  as  PJietorica.  Dialcc- 
tica,  and  so  on.     In  the  common-room  are  showy  portraits  of 


22  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  chiefs  of  the  Romish  recusancy  in  England,  some  of  whom 
look  like  saints,  and  some  like  Satan.  There  was  a  portrait  of 
Pugin,  to  which  I  directed  the  attention  of  the  official  who 
served  as  guide.  He  sneered  significantly,  and  said  Pugin  was  a 
queer  fellow,  which  meant  that  they  had  found  him  not  so  blind 
as  they  wished  him  to  be,  to  his  fatal  mistake  in  joining  them. 
He  studied  Mediaeval  Anglicanism,  with  the  illusion  that  it  was 
all  one  with  modern  Tridentinism,  and  had  left  his  mother  Church 
in  the  vain  hope  that  he  should  find  a  more  congenial  sphere  for  his 
antiquarian  tastes,  among  the  English  Papists.  But  he  found 
the  past  even  more  absolutely  ignored  at  Oscott  than  at  Oxford. 
Anglicans  are  glad  to  retain  all  that  may  be  safely  retained  of 
their  own  antiquity :  but  Romanists  are  Italian  throughout,  and 
any  thing  that  is  national,  is  schismatical.  They  know  nothing 
of  Augustine  and  little  of  Anselm ;  they  date  from  Trent,  and  to 
that  all  must  conform.  Old  liturgies,  old  customs,  old  principles, 
as  he  in  vain  tried  to  recommend  them,  they  laughed  at  as  utterly 
obsolete :  and  he  in  turn  scoffed  at  their  Romanesque,  and  their 
Oratorianism,  as  infinitely  less  Catholic  than  the  Anglican  Gothic, 
and  the  Anglican  Prayer-Book.  Poor  fellow !  he  has  since  died 
in  a  mad-house — a  noble  genius,  but  the  victim  of  theory,  and  of 
unreal  conceptions  as  to  the  diseases  and  the  cure  of  the  times. 

If  I  was  disappointed  at  Oscott,  much  more  at  St.  Chad's,  their 
new  cathedral  in  Birmingham.  So  much  was  said  about  this 
attempt,  that  I  had  supposed  it  a  chefd'ceuvre  of  the  architect, 
and  a  complete  trap  for  dilettanti  Anglicans.  It  is  the  reverse  of 
all  this,  being  so  poor,  and  even  niggard  in  its  entire  conception 
and  execution,  that  I  am  sure  it  must  be  a  spoiled  Pugin,  if  his 
at  all.  It  is  of  brick,  and  of  small  dimensions,  and  not  cleanly. 
Its  crypts  are  instructive  as  to  the  way  in  which  the  crypts 
of  the  old  cathedrals  were  formerly  used,  being  fitted  up  for 
masses  for  the  dead,  but  not  much  adorned.  They  are  damp, 
dark,  and  somewhat  offensive,  as  they  are  used  for  burial. 

Strolling  out  to  Edgbaston,  I  saw  the  rising  walls  of  Newman's 
Oratory.  This,  too,  is  strictly  conformed  to  his  new  Italian  idea 
of  religion,  which  scrupulously  eschews  the  old  English  architec- 
ture, associated  as  that  is  with  Magna  Charta  and  the  Constitu- 
tions of  Clarendon,  and  with  three  hundred  years  of  absolute  inde- 
pendence. This  is  in  strict  agreement  with  his  development  theory. 
The  Romanism  of  the  present  is  the  rule,  and  that  is  Italian:  the 
past  was  immature  and  undigested,  and  hence  savored,  more  or 


ORATORIANS.  23 

less,  of  nationality.  How  vastly  more  severed,  then,  from  the 
historical  antecedents  of  his  country  is  the  British  papist,  than 
the  genuine  Anglican ! 

While  I  was  in  Birmingham,  Mr.  Newman  yet  occupied  his 
temporary  Oratory,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Camp-Hill.  It  was 
an  old  distillery,  and,  of  course,  was  but  an  ill-looking  place  for 
worship.  Wishing  to  see  him  and  his  sect,  I  went  one  day  to 
the  spot,  and  pushing  aside  a  heavy  veil  at  the  door,  such  as  is 
common  in  Italian  churches,  found  myself  in  a  low  and  dirty- 
looking  place  of  worship,  in  which  the  first  object  that  met  my 
eye  was  an  immense  doll  of  almost  ludicrous  aspect,  near  the 
door,  representing  the  Virgin,  with  the  crescent  beneath  her  feet. 
Bishop  Ullathorne  proves  .Mohammed  to  have  been  the  first  be- 
liever in  the  Immaculate  Conception,  so  that  we  cannot  but  admit 
the  propriety  of  the  symbol.  Before  this  image  several  youth,  with 
broad  tonsures,  and  in  long  cassocks,  were  kneeling,  in  a  manner 
truly  histrionic.  One  of  them  rose  and  asked  if  I  would  like  to 
be  shown  the  library,  and  so  conducted  me  up  a  dark  and  narrow 
stair-case  into  a  large  apartment,  in  which  were  no  books,  but 
which  appeared  to  be  hung  with  baize,  like  the  rooms  of  an 
artist.  He  informed  me  that  the  books  were  in  petto,  and  would, 
by  and  by,  be  manifested ;  apologizing  for  the  present  deficiency. 

A  person,  in  like  costume  with  my  conductor,  and  with  a 
shaven  crown  even  more  grotesque,  was  pacing  to  and  fro  in  the 
room,  apparently  devoting  himself  to  a  book  which  he  held  in 
hand.  At  a  question  of  mine,  addressed  to  my  guide,  as  to  where 
Mr.  Newman  might  be,  this  personage  turned  sharply  round  and 
answered,  "  he  has  been  all  day  in  the  Confessional,  where  he 
would  be  glad  to  see  you."  "  Who  is  that  person  ?  "  I  demanded, 
looking  towards  the  strange  apparition,  as  he  continued  pacing 
up  and  down,  and  addressing  my  guide.  "  Father  Ambrose," 
was  the  reply.  "  Yes,  but  what  is  his  name  beyond  the  walls  of 
the  Oratory?"     The  young  man,  rather  reluctantly,  lisped  out, 

'•Mr.  S ."      "Mr.  S ,"  I  rejoined,  "late  of 

College,  Oxford!  Can  it  be  possible?"  I  looked  at  him,  utterly 
unable  to  conceal  my  surprise,  and  pitied  him  in  my  heart.  The 
youths  whom  I  had  seen  were  doubtless  all,  like  him,  young  men 
of  promise  and  of  parts  only  a  few  years  since,  in  Oxford ;  and 
now  to  see  them  thus  ignobly  captive,  and  performing  such  unreal 
and  corrupting  dramatics,  in  an  age  of  wants  and  works,  and  of 
awful  realities,  like  this!  But  where  was  the  ignis  fat  u  us  of  the 
bog  into  which  they  had  fallen  %     Inquiring  for  their  Master,  I 


24:  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

was  informed  he  was  to  preach  in  their  chapel  on  a  certain 
evening,  and  accordingly  I  attended  at  the  appointed  time.  It 
was  during  the  Octave  of  Easter,  and  on  entering,  I  observed 
that  the  altar  was  a  bank  of  flowers,  looking  more  like  the  shelves 
of  a  conservatory,  than  the  table  of  the  Lord.  Above  this  hor- 
ticultural display  towered  a  thing  of  wax  and  glass  and  spangles, 
(or  what  seemed  to  be  such,)  as  the  apparent  divinity  of  the 
shrine.  It  was  a  shameful  burlesque  of  the  Virgin,  and  utterly 
incompetent  to  excite  one  religious  or  reverent  thought  in  any 
mind  not  entirely  childish,  or  depraved  in  taste.  It  was  sur- 
rounded with  tawdry  finery,  and  looked  like  the  idol  of  a  pagoda. 
The  room  was  well  lighted,  and  filled  with  the  sort  of  people 
usually  frequenting  Romish  chapels  in  this  country.  A  few  well- 
dressed  persons  seemed  to  be  strangers,  and  like  myself  were 
treated  with  great  civility.  The  chancel  was  filled  with  the 
youths  I  had  seen  before,  wearing  over  their  cassocks  the  short 
jacket-like  surplice,  usual  in  Italy.  These  were  offering  some 
prayers  in  English,  but  they  could  not  be  called  English  prayers ; 
and  then  followed  a  hymn,  given  out  and  sung  very  much  in  the 
style  of  the  Methodists.  I  could  not  distinguish  what  it  was 
altogether,  but  the  hymn-book  which  they  use  was  given  me  in 
Birmingham,  and  consists,  in  a  great  degree,  of  such  ditties  as 
this,  which  they  apparently  address  to  the  image  over  the  altar : — 

"  So  age  after  age  in  the  Church  hath  gone  round, 
And  the  Saints  new  inventions  of  homage  have  found ; 
Conceived  without  sin,  thy  new  title  shali  be 
A  new  gem  to  thy  shining,  sweet  Star  of  the  Sea!" 

Many  hymns  in  the  collection  are  not  only  lack-a-daisical  in  the 
extreme,  but  highly  erotic,  and  even  nauseously  carnal.  I  could 
scarcely  believe  my  eyesight,  so  senseless  seemed  the  ceremony ; 
and  yet  here  were  educated  men,  Englishmen,  sons  of  a  pure  and 
always  majestic  Church,  and  familiar  with  the  Holy  Scriptures 
from  their  infancy !  How  shall  we  account  for  such  a  phenom- 
enon in  the  history  of  the  human  mind,  and  of  the  human  soul  ? 
While  the  singing  was  going  on,  a  lank  and  spectral  figure  ap- 
peared at  the  door  of  the  chancel — stalked  in,  and  prostrated 
himself  before  the  altar.  This  was  followed  by  a  succession  of 
elevations  and  prostrations,  awkward  in  the  extreme,  and  both 
violent  and  excessive :  but  whether  required  by  the  rubric,  or 
dictated  by  personal  fervor  only,  they  added  nothing  to  the  so- 
lemnity of  the  scene.     Meanwhile  the  hymn  was  continued  by 


A   SERMON.  25 

the  disciples,  as  fanatically  as  the  pantomime  was  performed  by 
the  Master.  But  could  this  be  the  man  !  Could  this  be  he  who 
once  stood  in  the  first  pulpit  of  Christendom,  and  from  his  watch- 
tower  in  St.  Mary's,  told  us  what  of  the  night  ?  Was  this  the 
burning  and  shining  light  who  for  a  season  allowed  us  to  rejoice 
in  his  light  ?  What  an  eclipse !  I  felt  a  chill  creep  over  me  as 
he  mounted  his  rostrum,  and  turned  towards  us  his  almost  mani- 
acal visage.  There  could  be  no  mistake.  It  was,  indeed,  poor  fallen 
Newman.  He  crossed  himself,  unfolded  a  bit  of  broad  ribbon, 
kissed  it,  put  it  over  his  shoulders,  opened  his  little  Bible,  and 
gave  his  text  from  the  Vulgate — Surrexit  enim,  sicut  dixit — ;;  He  is 
risen,  as  he  said."  The  preaching  was  extemporaneous;  the 
manner  not  fluent ;  the  matter  not  well  arranged  ;  gesticulations 
not  violent  nor  immoderate ;  the  tone,  affectedly  earnest ;  and 
the  whole  thing,  from  first  to  last,  painfully  suggestive  of  a  sham  ; 
of  something  not  heartily  believed ;  of  something  felt  to  be  un- 
real by  the  speaker  himself.  And  yet  "  the  hand  of  Joab  was  in 
it."  There  was  no  denying  the  craft  of  no  common  artist.  lie 
dwelt  chiefly  on  Sicut  dixit — to  which  he  gave  a  very  New- 
man-like force,  repeating  the  words  over  and  over  again. 
u Sicut  dixit,  my  friends,  that  is,  as  he  taid.  hut  as  you  would  not 
believe!  This  was  a  reproach:  as  much  as  to  say — What  did 
you  expect?  Were  you  not  told  as  much?  Of  course,  he  is  risen, 
for  he  said  so!"  In  this  way  the  preacher  reached  the  point  of 
his  discourse,  which  was,  that  "  the  original  disciples  themselves, 
who  thought  they  knew  and  loved  Christ — nay,  who  did  love 
him,  and  came  to  embalm  his  body,  after  he  was  crucified — had 
so  little  faith,  as  to  deserve  a  rebuke,  instead  of  a  commendation. 
They  had  to  be  harshly  reminded  of  what  Jesus  had  said  to  them 
with  his  own  mouth.  Vfellyjust  so  in  our  day,  thousands  who 
think  they  know  and  love  him,  have  yet  no  real  faith ;  don't  be- 
lieve, in  short,  what  the  Church  requires  them  to  believe,  and 
hence  are  strangers  to  the  Catholic  faith."  Drawing  illustrations 
from  the  days  of  Noe  (so  he  called  him)  and  many  Old  Testa- 
ment histories,  he  endeavored  to  show,  in  like  manner,  that  God 
had  always  required  men  to  believe  the  very  things  they  were  not 
willing  to  believe :  and  hence  he  drew  his  conclusion  that  the 
slowness  of  men  to  believe  all  that  Romanism  prescribes,  is  mere 
want  of  faith.  It  would  have  been  quite  to  the  point  to  have 
shown  a  sicut  dixit  in  support  of  the  matters  which  he  endeavored 
to  force  upon  us,  before  he  asked  us  to  admit  that  denying  the 
"  Deification  of  Mary,"  is  all   the  same  thing  as  doubting  the 


26  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND, 

Resurrection  of  Christ  from  the  dead ;  but  of  course  this  joint 
was  wanting.  I  was  amused  at  the  ingenuity,  but  shocked  at  the 
juggle  of  such  an  argument,  which  was  simply  this — that  because 
it  is  sinful  to  doubt  what  Christ  has  said,  therefore  it  is  equally 
sinful  to  doubt  what  lie  never  said,  and  what  is  directly  contrary 
to  many  things  whieh  he  did  expressly  say !  The  orator,  in  de- 
livering this  apology  for  his  new  faith,  by  no  means  forgot  a  little 
plea  for  himself  personally,  in  which  I  saw  evidence  of  his 
wounded  pride.  He  said,  "  Christ  thus  sent  a  rebuke  to  his  dis- 
ciples for  not  believing  what  he  said ;  and  you  know  how  hard  it 
is,  for  even  us,  to  bear  such  unbelief  in  our  friends.  We  know 
we  are  sincere;  but  they  say,  for  example,  he  is  artful,  he  dont  be- 
lieve his  own  words,  he  deceives ;  or,  if  they  don't  say  that,  then 
they  say,  he  is  crazij,  he  is  beside  himself,  he  has  lost  his  icits.''''  On 
this  he  enlarged  with  much  feeling,  for  he  was  pleading  his  own 
cause,  and  in  fact  he  rambled  on  in  this  direction  till  he  had 
nearly  forgotten  his  argument.  But  I  was  amused  at  one  in- 
stance of  his  forgetting  himself  in  particular.  In  referring  to  the 
hard  names  Christ  himself  had  to  bear,  he  had  occasion  to  quote 
St.  Matthew  xxvii.,  63,  where  the  Romish  version  reads,  "  Sir,  we 
have  remembered  that  that  seducer  said,  yet  living,  ete."  But  before 
he  knew  it,  he  forgot  that  he  was  an  actor,  and  unwittingly  quot- 
ed the  smoother  rendering  of  his  good  old  English  Bible,  "  Sir, 
we  remember  that  that  deceiver  said  while  he  was  yet  alive." 
"While  dwelling  on  the  words  that  deceive?*,  he  bethought  himself 
that  he  was  quoting  heresy,  and  hobbled  as  well  as  he  could  into 
some  other  equivalent,  but  whether  the  very  words  of  his  new 
Bible  or  not,  I  cannot  affirm.  There  were  other  similar  baitings 
of  the  tongue,  which  show  that  a  man  may  have  a  good  will  to 
say  the  Romish -Shibboleth,  and  yet  betray  himself  occasionally, 
by  "not  framing  to  pronounce  it  right."  Newman  certainly  for- 
got the  talismanic  aspirate  on  this  occasion;  he  seemed  to  be  con- 
scious of  playing  a  part,  and,  altogether,  when  he  had  done,  I 
left  the  place,  contented  to  have  done  with  him.  Alas!  that  gold 
can  be  thus  changed,  and  the  fine  gold  become  so  dim ! 

I  could  not  learn  that  he  was  doing  much  by  all  his  efforts;  in 
fact  he  was  said  to  be  somewhat  crest-fallen  and  irritable,  about 
things  in  Birmingham.  His  Oratorians  were  going  about  the 
streets  in  queer,  and,  in  met,  ridiculous  garments,  and  attracting 
stares  and  jibes,  and  no  doubt  they  felt  themselves  martyrs ;  but 
there  is,  after  all,  much  sturdy  common  sense  in  John  Bull's  ha- 
tred of  the  absurd,  and  few  can  think  any  better  of  folly  for  wear- 


ST.    PHILIP   >'ERI.  27 

ing  its  cap  in  broad  daylight.  The  results  God  only  can  foresee ; 
but  a  delusion  so  patent,  one  would  think — if  it  must  have  its 
day — must  also  find  daylight  enough  in  the  very  shortest  day  in 
the  year  to  kill  it  outright. 

They  showed  me,  at  the  Oratory,  a  wax  cast  of  the  face  of  St. 
Philip  Neri,  and  a  very  pleasant  and  benevolent  one  it  was.  He 
was  an  Italian  "Wesley,  and  the  Pope  was  his  bitter  adversary,  in 
his  life-time,  interdicting  him,  and  refusing  him  the  Sacrament-, 
and  almost  excommunicating  him.  But  somehow  or  other  when 
he  was  out  of  the  way,  it  became  convenient  to  canonize  him,  as 
a  sort  of  patron  of  enthusiasts  of  a  certain  class,  who  find  in  his 
fraternity,  a  free  scope  for  their  feelings  and  passions.  Oratorian- 
ism  is  the  Methodism  of  the  Trent  religion,  but  has  a  virtual 
creed  of  its  own,  and  is  as  really  a  sect  as  Methodism  was  in  the 
life-time  of  its  founder.  Hence  it  is  odious  to  many  even  of  the 
new  converts,  and  many  old-fashioned  Romanists  abhor  it.  I 
left  the  Oratory  of  Mr.  Newman  with  a  deep  impression  that  he 
has  yet  a  remaining  character  to  act,  very  different  from  that  in 
which  he  now  appears,  but  in  which  it  will  be  evident  that  he  is 
far  from  satisfied,  at  this  time,  with  the  direction  which  he  has 
given  to  his  own  movement,  and  with  the  grounds  on  which  he 
has  chosen  to  rest  his  submission  to  the  Pope. 


CHAPTER    IV 


Arrival  in  London,  and  first  two  days. 

In  early  life  I  had  always  promised  myself  a  first  view  of  Lon- 
don, either  approaching  the  Tower  by  water,  and  taking  in  the 
survey  of  steeples,  bridges,  and  docks,  or  else  descending  from 
Hampstead,  on  the  top  of  a  rapid  coach,  and  beholding  the  great 
dome  of  St.  Paul's,  arising  amid  a  world  of  subordinate  roofs, 
and  looming  up  through  their  common  canopy  of  cloud-like 
smoke.  Alas !  for  all  such  visions,  we  have  reached  the  age  of 
the  rail :  and,  consequently,  I  found  myself,  one  afternoon,  set 
down  in  a  busy,  bustling  station-house,  with  a  confused  sensation 
of  having  been  dragged  through  a  long  ditch,  and  a  succession  of 
dark  tunnels,  and  with  a  scarcely  less  confused  conception  of 
the  fact,  that  I  was  in  London.  A  few  policemen  loitering  about, 
and  a  line  of  cabs  and  'busses  of  truly  English  look,  confirmed 
the  conviction,  however,  that  I  was  really  in  the  Metropolis,  and 
I  soon  found  myself  looking  up  my  luggage,  in  the  business  way 
of  one  accustomed  to  the  place,  and  without  a  single  rapture  or 
emotion  of  the  marvellous.  Some  things  were  very  different 
from  an  American  station-house ;  as,  for  example,  the  dignity  of 
an  ecclesiastical  gentleman  emerging  from  the  first-class  carriages 
in  cocked-hat,  and  solemn  cravat  and  surtout,  his  short-clothes 
eked  into  pantaloons  by  ponderous  leggings,  buttoned  about  his 
black  stockings,  and  his  whole  deportment  evincing  a  reverend 
care  of  his  health  and  personal  convenience — the  inevitable 
umbrella  especially,  neatly  enveloped  in  varnished  leather,  and 
tucked  under  the  consequential  arm ;  or  again,  the  careful  avoid- 
ance of  the  crowd  evinced  by  a  dignified  lady,  accompanied  by 
her  maid,  and  watching  with  an  eye-glass  the  anxious  manipulations 
of  a  footman,  in  showy  livery,  piling  up  a  stack  of  trunks,  hat- 
boxes,  and  what  not,  all  inscribed,  "  Lady  Dashey,  Eaton  Place, 
Belgrave  Square."     Getting  into  a  cab,  with  my  very  democratic 


LONDON  STREETS.  29 

luggage  safely  rescued  from  the  vans,  and  forcing  an  exit  through 
vehicles  of  all  ranks,  from  the  dog-cart  up  to  the  lumbering  coach, 
with  footman  behind,  and  my  lord  inside,  I  emerge  at  length  into 
London  streets  from  the  Euston  Square  Station,  and  begin  to 
make  my  way  towards  the  focus  of  the  world.  How  mechanic- 
ally I  jog  along,  just  as  if  I  had  lived  here  all  my  life,  and  with- 
out the  least  conformity  to  the  fact  that  my  pulse  is  quickening, 
and  mine  eye  straining  to  realize  a  long  ideal,  which  in  a  few  mi- 
nutes will  be  substantial  fact !  Every  street-sign  arrests  my  eye, 
"Paddington  New  Road,"  "  Gower  Place,"  "Torrington  Square," 
"Keppell  Street,"  "  Bedford  Square,"  "  Great  Russell  Street," 
"  Bloomsbury,"  "  Bond  Street,"  "  Seven  Dials,"  "  St.  Martin's 
Lane,"  and  now  I  begin  to  know  where  I  am.  There  is  St.  Mar- 
tin's— there  the  lion  with  a  long  tail  on  Northumberland  House — 
here  is  Trafalgar  Square — I  see  Charles  First,  on  horseback,  at 
Charing  Cross — and  here  old  George  Third,  with  his  queue,  at 
the  head  of  Cockspur  Street — and  here  the  Haymarket  and  Pall 
Mall,  and  here  I  am  set  down  at  the  hospitable  door  of  a  friend, 
first  known  in  America,  and  who  has  kindly  insisted  on  my 
spending  my  first  few  days  in  London  as  his  guest.  It  was  an  un- 
expected pleasure,  but  a  great  one,  to  receive  my  first  impressions 
of  London  in  the  agreeable  company  of  the  Reverend  Ernest 
Hawkins,  a  person  singularly  qualified  to  share  the  feelings 
of  a  stranger,  but  upon  whose  valuable  time  1  should  not  have 
ventured  to  trespass,  except  at  his  own  friendly  instance.  After 
renewing  the  acquaintance,  formed  during  his  short  visit  to  our 
country  in  1849,  the  question  was,  Where  shall  we  begin?  A 
fine  day  was  already  clouded  over,  and  alternate  light  and  shade 
were  inviting  and  again  discouraging  out-door  amusements.  How- 
ever, a  turn  through  St.  James's  Park  to  Whitehall  was  practica- 
ble enough,  and  at  Whitehall  I  was  resolved  to  begin.  Forth 
we  go,  step  into  the  Athenaeum  Club  House,  and  descend  into  the 
Park,  by  the  Duke  of  York's  Column,  descrying  through  the 
mist  the  towers  of  Westminster  Abbey,  and  soon  passing  through 
the  Horse-Guards,  stand  "  in  the  open  street  before  Whitehall." 
There  is  the  Banquet ing-room — there  the  fatal  window — here  is 
the  very  spot,  where  the  tide  turned  between  old  and  new,  and 
parted  on  an  axe's  edge.  That  martyrdom!  What  that  has 
happened  in  Church  and  State,  not  only  among  Anglo-Saxons,  but 
in  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  since  1649,  has  not  resulted  from  the 
deed  of  blood  done  here ! 

My  kind  friend  took  me  out  upon  Hungerford  Bridge,  and  bade 


30  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

me  use  my  eyes,  and  tell  the  different  objects  if  I  could.  I  turned 
towards  Lambeth,  saw  the  old  towers  through  the  gray  mist,  and 
began  with  indescribable  pleasure  to  singleout  St.  Mary's,  Lambeth, 
the  New  Parliament  Houses,  Westminster  Hall,  the  Abbey,  St. 
Margaret's,  and  so  forth,  till  turning  round,  I  descried  St.  Paul's, 
(vast,  sublimely  so,  and  magnificently  tutelary,)  and  nearer  by, 
Somerset  House  and  the  bridges,  and  the  little  steamers  shooting 
to  and  fro  beneath  their  noble  arches.  Enough  for  a  first  glimpse ! 
We  went  into  Regent  Street,  and  by  Burlington  Arcade  into  Pic- 
cadilly, and  turning  into  St.  James's  Street,  I  first  saw  the  old 
Palace  at  its  extremity,  looking  just  as  one  sees  it  in  Hogarth's 
picture  of  ''the  Pake  going  to  Court,"  in  the  last  century,  old 
and  shabby,  and  venerable  altogether.  Such  was  my  first  ramble 
in  London  and  Westminster. 

I  was  so  happy  as  to  meet  at  dinner  that  evening,  a  small  party 
of  the  clergy  of  the  Metropolis,  in  whose  company  the  hours  went 
rapidly  and  delightfully  by,  with  many  warm,  and,  I  dare  say, 
heartfelt  expressions  of  interest  in  America  and  her  Church;  the 
whole  presided  over  by  my  reverend  entertainer,  with  the  most 
animating  spirit  of  dignified  cordiality.  The  general  desire  which 
prevails  to  know  something  of  a  new  Bishop  of  the  Church,  may 
excuse  my  particularizing  the  Rev.  John  Jackson,  Rector  of  St. 
James's,  Westminster,  and  Chaplain  in  Ordinary  to  the  Queen, 
who  was  one  of  the  party,  as  a  person  of  very  unassuming,  but 
attractive  manners,  of  whose  subsequent  elevation  to  the  See  of 
Lincoln,  it  has  given  me  no  little  pleasure  to  learn. 

With  what  a  world  of  new  and  confused  emotions,  I  tried  to 
drop  to  sleep  after  such  a  day !  The  roof  beneath  which  I  was 
reposing  was  an  historic  one.  Standing  in  the  precincts  of  St. 
James's,  it  had  once  been  the  abode  of  the  beautiful  but  un- 
happy Nell  Gwynne,  the  one  of  all  those  wretched  creatures  who 
disgraced  the  Court  of  the  Second  Charles,  for  whom  one  feels 
more  pity  than  scorn;  and  for  whom,  remembering  the  com- 
parative goodness  of  her  natural  qualities,  and  her  own  plaintive 
lament  over  her  education  in  a  pot-house  to  fill  glasses  for  drunk- 
ards, there  must  have  been  compassion  from  the  Father  of  Mer- 
cies, and  possibly  pardon  from  the  blood  that  cleanseth  from  all 
sin,  her  penitent  death  being  more  than  probable.  It  is  certainly 
gratifying  that  a  mansion  once  given  up  to  such  associations  is 
now  turned  into  an  abode  of  piety  and  benevolence,  and  made  the 
head  quarters  of  the  operations  of  the  venerable  S.  P.  G.  In  the 
chamber  where  I  was  lodged,  had  lately  rested  those  estimable 


, 


WESTMINSTER   ABBEY.  31 

missionaries.  Bishops  Field,  and  Medley,  and  Gray,  and  Straehan  ; 
and  I  felt  unworthy  to  lay  my  head  where  such  holy  heads  had 
been  pillowed.  But  a  blessing  seemed  to  haunt  the  spot  which 
they,  and  many  like  them,  had  reconciled  to  virtue,  and  hallowed 
by  their  pure  repose:  and  I  slumbered  sweetly,  dreaming  of  Lud's 
town,  and  King  Lud.  and  of  divers  men  of  divers  ages,  who  had 
come  to  London,  upon  manifold  errands,  to  seek  their  fortunes 
there,  and  there  to  nourish  and  wax  great,  or  to  rise  and  fall, 
until  now  it  was  my  lot  to  mingle  with  its  living  tides,  and  then 
to  pass  away  again  to  my  far-off  home,  as  "a  guest  that  tarrieth 
but  a  night." 

"When  I  rose  in  the  morning,  I  looked  out  into  the  park,  and 
now  for  the  first  time,  gained  a  clear  idea  of  that  strange  scene 
described  in  Evelyn's  Memoirs,  as  occurring  between  King 
Charles  and  Mistress  Nelly,  while  the  grovelling  monarch  was 
walking  with  him  in  the  Mall.  The  wretched  woman  was  stand- 
ing on  a  terrace,  at  the  end  of  her  garden,  and  looking  over  into 
the  park,  when  the  king  turns  from  Evelyn,  and  going  towards 
her,  holds  a  conversation  with  her  in  that  public  place  and  man- 
ner. ''I  was  heartily  sorry  at  this  scene,"  says  the  pure-minded 
journalist:  and  indeed  it  forboded  no  little  evil  to  both  Church  and 
nation,  as  well  as  to  the  miserable  Prince  who  could  thus  debase 
his  crown  and  character,  in  the  face  of  the  open  day,  and  of  a 
virtuous  man. 

And  now,  having  a  whole  day  before  me,  I  began  by  attending 
divine  service  in  Westminster  Abbey.  Through  the  park  and 
Birdcage-walk,  I  went  leisurely  to  old  Palace  Yard,  passing  round 
the  Abbey  and  St.  Margaret's,  and  so  entered  by  Poet's  corner. 
Service  was  going  on,  and  of  course  I  gave  myself  as  much  as 
possible  to  its  sacred  impressions,  but  was  unable  to  repress  some 
wandering  thoughts,  as  my  eyes  caught  the  long  lines  and  inter- 
sections of  nave  and  aisles,  or  turned  upwards  to  the  clere-story, 
where  the  smoky  sunlight  of  a  London  morning  was  lingering 
along  the  old  rich  tracery  and  fret-work,  to  which  every  cadence 
of  the  chaunt  seemed  to  aspire,  and  where  just  so,  just  such  sun- 
beams have  come  and  gone  as  quietly  over  all  the  most  speaking 
and  eventful  pageants  of  the  British  Empire,  since  William  First 
was  crowned  here,  in  the  midst  of  those  Norman  and  Saxon  an- 
tagonists whose  blood  now  runs  mingled  in  the  veins  of  the  Brit- 
ish people.  Nay,  we  must  send  back  our  thoughts  at  least  so  far 
as  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  Avas  also  crowned  here,  and  whose 
sepulchre  is  hard  at  hand.     What  thoughts  of  human  splendor, 


32  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

and  of  human  nothingness!  The  anthem  was — Awake  up  my 
Gloiy — and  as  it  rose  and  fell,  and  tremulously  died  aAvay,  distri- 
buting its  effect  among  innumerable  objects  of  decayed  antiquity, 
I  seemed  to  catch  a  new  meaning  in  the  strain  of  the  psalmist. 
How  many  tongues  were  mute,  and  ingloriously  slumbering  around 
me — the  tongues  of  poets  and  of  princes  and  of  priests :  but  the  living 
should  praise  the  Lord  in  their  stead,  and  in  this  place  that  humbles 
the  glory  of  men,  it  was  good  to  sing — "  Set  up  thyself,  oh  God, 
above  the  heavens,  and  thy  glory  above  all  the  earth."  When 
the  service  was  over,  I  preferred  to  leave  the  Abbey,  with  this 
general  effect  still  upon  me,  and  to  take  it,  at  some  other  time,  in 
details:  and  so,  with  only  a  few  glances  at  the  familiar  objects  in 
Poet's  Corner,  I  passed  thoughtfully  through  the  choir,  which  is 
extended  down  the  nave,  and  so  into  the  south  aisle,  and  out  into 
the  cloisters.  I  took  passing  notice  of  the  Andre  monument,  and 
of  the  Thynne  monument,  which  I  recognized  by  their  sculpture 
alone.  I  saw  at  once  that  I  was  not  likely  to  be  satisfied  with 
such  ill-placed  memorials,  interesting  as  they  may  be  in  them- 
selves. In  the  cloisters,  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  Lord  John 
Thynne ;  and  on  being  introduced  to  his  Lordship,  and  remarking 
that  '"I  remembered  very  well  his  connection  with  the  Abbey,  as 
Sub-dean,  from  Leslie's  Picture  of  the  Coronation,"  (in  which 
he  bears  the  chalice,  as  the  Archbishop  gives  the  Bread  of  the 
Sacrament  to  Queen  Victoria,)  he  courteously  suggested  that 
perhaps  I  might  think  it  worth  while  to  look  at  the  coronation 
robes,  which  are  not  usually  seen  by  visitors,  but  which  were  in 
his  custody,  and  which  he  should  be  happy  to  have  me  see.  His 
Lordship  then  led  the  way  into  the  famous  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
a  place  not  ordinarily  shown,  but  full  of  interest,  not  only  as  the 
scene  of  the  swooning  of  Henry  Fourth,  but  as  the  seat  of  the 
Holy  Anglican  Synod,  which  has  since  revived,  ("  Laud  be  to  God,") 
in  the  same  Jerusalem  where  Henry  died.  This  place  is  by  no 
means  such  as  my  fancy  had  led  me  to  suppose,  but  has  the  air  of 
having  been  remodeled  in  James  First's  time,  although  an  ancient 
picture  of  Richard  Second — I  think  in  tapestry — is  sunk  in  the 
wainscot.  The  chamber  is  small,  and  of  very  moderate  architec- 
tural merit,  but  must  always  be  a  place  of  deep  and  hallowed  asso- 
ciations. Adjoining  this  is  the  Refectory  of  the  Westminster  school- 
boys, into  which  Ave  were  shown,  and  where  his  Lordship  remind- 
ed us  that  the  tables  were  made  of  the  oak  of  the  Spanish  Armada. 
They  were  full  of  holes,  burned  into  them  by  the  Westminster  boys, 
who  are  always  ambitious  each  to  "leave  his  mark"  in  this  way: 


CORONATION   VESTMENTS.  33 

so  that  as  you  look  at  them,  you  may  fancy  this  to  have  been 
burned  by  little  George  Herbert,  or  Ben  Johnson,  or  John  Dryden, 
or  Willie  Cowper,  or  Bob  Southey — all  of  whom  have,  in  their 
day,  sat  on  the  forms  of  Westminster.  Until  so  late  as  1845, 
this  refectory  was  warmed  by  the  ancient  brazier,  the  smoke 
escaping  through  the  louvre  in  the  roof.  On  coming  to  the  Deanery, 
Dr.  Buckland  reformed  this  ancient  thing,  and  a  very  ugly  stove 
now  reigns  in  its  stead,  as  a  monument  of  the  Dean's  utilitarian- 
ism and  nineteenth-century  ideas  on  all  possible  subjects. 

After  we  had  carefully  inspected  this  interesting  hall,  Lord 
John  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  took  us  to  see  the  robes,  but 
precisely  where  he  took  us,  it  would  be  hard  for  me  to  say.  It 
was  in  some  room  contiguous,  where  a  fidgety  little  woman  with 
keys  in  her  hands,  attended  as  mistress  of  the  robes,  and  opening 
the  repository  of  the  sacred  vestments,  displayed  them  with  such 
profound  obsequiousness  to  the  mildly  dignified  ecclesiastic  who 
conducted  us,  that  if  she  called  him  "my  lord"  once,  she  did  so 
some  twenty  times  in  a  single  minute.  The  readers  of  Mrs. 
Strickland's  "Queens  of  England"  will  not  require  me  to  enlarge 
upon  these  superb  vestments,  now  dimmed  and  faded  in  their 
splendour  by  the  lapse  of  nearly  two  centuries,  since  they  were 
made  for  the  coronation  of  the  luckless,  and  almost  brainless, 
James  the  Second.  They  are  worn  at  coronations  only,  by  the 
clergy  of  the  Abbey,  and  we  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  our  re- 
verend guide  in  his  appropriate  cope  as  Sub-dean ;  the  same  which 
he  wore  when  Victoria  was  crowned,  and  which  has  been  worn 
by  his  predecessors,  successively,  at  the  coronations  of  William 
and  Mary,  Queen  Anne,  the  four  Georges,  and  William  the  Fourth. 
Similar  vestments  in  form,  though  not  in  splendour,  are  to  this 
day  the  rubrical  attire  of  the  clergy  of  the  English  Church  in 
celebrating  the  Holy  Communion,  but  I  believe  they  are  now 
never  used,  although  they  were  in  use  at  least  in  Durham  Cath- 
edral, so  late  as  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  Having  seen 
these  interesting  and  historical  vestments,  we  thanked  the  amiable 
dignitary,  to  whom  we  had  been  indebted  for  so  much  polite  atten- 
tion, and  took  our  leave,  emerging  into  Dean's  Yard,  and  so  find- 
ing our  way  to  the  New  Houses  of  Parliament. 


CHAPTER    V. 


Sight-seeing —  Westminster  Hall. 

My  emotions  on  first  entering  Westminster  Hall,  were  scarcely- 
inferior  to  those  excited  by  the  Abbey.  Of  course  my  first  glance 
was  towards  the  oaken  roof,  whose  noble  span,  and  elaborate  con- 
struction, have  been  so  largely  eulogized,  but  which  derives  a  richer 
glory  than  its  material  one,  from  the  moral  sublimity  of  the  his- 
toric events,  to  which  its  venerable  shadow  has  been  lent.  Be- 
neath this  roof  the  Constitution  of  England  has  steadily  and  ma- 
jestically matured  for  centuries;  and  to  this  spot  belongs  the 
somewhat  mysterious  credit  of  an  assimilating  power,  akin  to  that 
of  digestion  in  the  human  system.  Whatever  has  been  the  food, 
it  has  always  managed  to  turn  it  into  wholesome  nutriment,  and 
to  add  it  to  the  solid  substance  of  the  British  State  in  the  shape 
of  bone  and  sinew,  or  of  veins  and  nerves.  It  has  been  the  scene 
of  violence  and  outrage,  and  of  both  popular  and  imperial  tyran- 
ny. Ko  matter!  Out  of  all  this  evil  has  always  come  substan- 
tial good.  The  roof  dates  from  Richard  Second's  time;  and  scene 
the  first  is  the  usurpation  of  the  fiery  Bolingbroke.  Here  rose  up 
that  daring  subject,  amid  astounded  bishops  and  barons,  and 
crossing  himself  broadly  on  the  breast,  profanely  uttered  the 
famous  bravado — "In  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son, 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  I,  Henry  of  Lancaster,  do  challenge  this 
reaume  of  Englande" — adding  mysterious  words,  from  which  it  is 
equally  difficult  to  say  on  what  grounds  he  did  or  did  not  rest  his 
claims.  Here  old  Sir  Thomas  More  forfeited  his  head,  for  high 
treason  against  "the  best  of  princes,"  as  he  had  long  called  old 
Harry  Eighth ;  and  here  sat  old  Hal  himself,  at  Lambert's  trial, 
interrupting  every  fresh  rejoinder  of  the  reformer,  with  the  sav- 
age assurance — "Thou  shalt  burn,  Lambert!"  I  looked  towards 
the  great  window  beneath  which  he  sat — and,  lo !  it  was  no  longer 


REMINISCENCES  00 

a  window,  but  an  open  way,  just  constructed  for  access  to 
the  New  Houses  of  Parliament — a  noble  alteration,  and  a  very 
speaking  symbol  too,  in  my  opinion;  for  thus,  in  the  path  of  his- 
tory, and  from  the  seat  of  law,  will  the  future  Senate  of  the  Em- 
pire go  to  their  responsible  labors  as  stewards  of  the  noblest  in- 
heritance that  exists  among  mankind.  Let  them  think,  as  they 
pass,  of  Stratford  and  of  Charles ;  how  in  suffering  and  sorrow 
they  contributed  to  the  British  people  that  distinguishing  element 
of  loyalty,  which  has  rendered  healthful  their  not  less  characteris- 
tic love  of  liberty.  Too  many.  I  fear,  imbued  with  the  superficial 
views  of  Maeaulay,  invest  with  sublimer  associations  the  fanatical 
Court  which  tried  and  condemned  their  Sovereign.  Here  sat 
those  bold,  bad  men;  and  daring,  indeed,  Avas  their  work;  nor  do 
I  doubt  that  it  has  been  over-ruled  for  good  to  England  ;  but  then 
it  should  not  be  forgotten,  that  the  subsequent  history  of  pro._ 
sive  and  rational  freedom  is  tar  more  directly  the  result  of  the 
wholesome  resistance  opposed  by  Church  and  Crown  to  the 
spirit  of  anarchy,  than  to  anything  in  that  spirit  itself.  Had  the 
King  of  England  been  a  Bourbon — had  the  Church  of  England 
been  a  Genevan  or  a  Roman  one,  that  flood  must  have  washed 
all  landmarks  away:  and  the  fabric  of  Constitutional  Liberty, 
which  now  attracts  the  admiration  of  all  thinking  men,  could 
never  have  been  constructed.  Honour,  then,  to  the  martyrs 
of  Law  and  of  Religion,  who,  beneath  this  roof,  built  up  the 
only  barrier  that  has  turned  bark  the  turbulent  waves  of  modern 
barbarism!  I  stood,  and  thought  of  Charles,  with  sorrow  for  his 
grievous  faults,  but  yet  with  gratitude  for  the  manly  recompense 
he  offered  here  to  a  people  whom  he  had  unintentionally  injured 
through  their  own  antiquated  laws,  but  whom  he  defended  against 
the  worse  tyranny  of  lawless  usurpation,  by  his  majestic  protest 
in  this  Hall,  and  by  sealing  it  with  his  blood.  Here,  too,  the 
seven  bishops  delivered  the  Church  and  State  of  England  when 
they  stood  up  against  the  treacherous  son  of  Charles,  and  c 
pleted  the  triumph  of  the  Church  by  proving  it  as  true  to  the 
pie,  as  it  had  been  to  the  throne,  on  the  same  foundation  of  im- 
mutable principle.  This  was  the  roof  that  rang  with  the  shouts 
of  vindicated  justice,  when  those  fathers  of  the  Church  wer 
free!  I  looked  up,  and  surveyed  every  beam  and  rafter  with 
reverence.  The  angels,  carved  in  the  hammer-beams,  were  look- 
ing placidly  down,  each  one  with  his  shield  upon  his  breast,  like 
the  guardian  spirits  of  a  nation,  true  to  itself  and  to  ancestral 
faith  and  order.  The  symbol  is  an  appropriate  one;  for  the  frame- 


36  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

work  of  the  British  Constitution  is  like  this  roof  of  Richard  in 
many  respects,  but  in  none  more  than  this — that  the  strength  and 
beauty  of  the  whole  are  fitly  framed  together,  with  inseparable  fea- 
tures of  human  wisdom  and  of  divine  truth ;  the  latter  being  always 
conspicuous,  and  investing  all  with  reverend  dignity  and  grace. 

The  floor  of  the  old  Hall  presents  a  less  sentimental  aspect,  and 
might  easily  plunge  imagination,  by  one  step,  into  the  ridiculous. 
Here  are  the  barristers  walking  about  with  clients,  and  with  each 
other,  arm  in  arm,  their  gray  wigs  of  divers  tails,  some  set  awry, 
and  some  strongly  contrasted  with  black  and  red  whiskers,  giving 
them  a  ludicrous  appearance;  while  their  gowns,  some  of  them 
shabby  enough,  are  curiously  tucked  under  the  arm,  or  carelessly 
dangling  about  the  heels,  apparently  an  annoyance  to  the  wearers, 
in  either  case.  The  several  courts  were  in  session,  in  chambers 
which  open  out  of  the  hall,  along  its  sides.  I  stepped  into  the 
Chancellor's  Court,  where  sat  Lord  Truro,  listening,  or  perhaps 
not  listening,  to  the  eminent  Mr.  Bethell.  His  Lordship  in  his 
walrus  wig,  with  a  face  proverbially  likened  to  the  hippopotamus, 
seemed  to  represent  the  animal  kingdom,  as  well  as  that  of  which 
the  mace  and  seal-bag,  lying  before  him,  were  the  familiar  tokens. 
The  court-room  is  very  small,  popular  audiences  being  not  de- 
sirable, and  open  doors  being  all  that  popular  right  can  require. 
Here  the  same  barristers  looked  far  from  ludicrous-— their  attire 
seemed  to  fit  the  place  and  its  duties.  Doubtless  the  influence  of 
such  things  is  an  illusion,  but  nevertheless  it  is  a  useful  one,  and 
contributes  to  the  dignity,  which  it  only  appears  to  respect.  We 
need  some  such  things  in  our  Republic.  Next  I  stepped  into  the 
Vice-Chancellor's  Court,  and  saw  Sir  J.  L.  Knight  Bruce  adminis- 
tering the  law ;  and  here  I  was  introduced  to  several  eminent  lawyers, 
whose  cauliflower  wigs  covered  a  world  of  learning  and  of  grave 
intelligence.  Stepping  into  the  Common  Pleas,  there  sat  in  a  row, 
Lord  Chief  Justice  Jervis,  and  Justices  Creswell,  "Williams  and 
Talfourd.  I  could  not  but  look  with  interest  at  the  author  of  Ion, 
but  in  the  disguise  of  his  magistracy,  I  looked  in  vain  for  any  fea- 
ture which  I  could  identify  with  his  portraits.  In  the  Court  of 
Queen's  Bench,  Lord  Campbell  was  presiding,  with  three  others; 
in  the  Bail  Court,  I  saw  Justice  Coleridge ;  and  in  the  Court  of 
Exchequer,  Lord  Chief  Baron  Pollock,  with  Barons  Park,  Piatt 
and  Martin.  Thus,  with  the  greatest  facility,  and  in  a  very  short 
space  of  time,  can  one  see  the  most  favoured  sons  of  the  British 
Themis,  and  gain  a  good  idea  of  the  dignity  and  close  attention 
to  business  with  which  these  courts  are  managed.    The  Supreme 


VICTORIA   TOWER.  37 

Court  of  our  own  country,  is  far  inferior  in  appearance,  although 
it  is  the  only  American  Court  which  admits  of  any  comparison 
with  these,  and  yet  it  is  allowed  on  all  hands,  that  "the  law's  de- 
lay" in  England  is  an  intolerable  grievance,  and  that  the  expense 
of  obtaining  justice,  at  these  tribunals,  is  of  itself  a  crying  injustice. 

Sallying  forth  into  the  street,  I  went  round  to  new  the  rising 
splendours  of  the  Victoria  Tower,  the  massive  proportions  of 
which  almost  dwarf  those  of  the  Abbey.  It  confuses  the  be- 
holder by  the  elaborate  richness  of  its  details,  its  profuse  symbol- 
ism, and  all  the  variety  of  its  heraldic  and  allegorical  decoration. 
When  completed,  it  will  give  a  new,  but  harmonious  aspect,  to 
the  acres  of  sacred  and  princely  architecture  which  spread 
around;  but  these  English  builders  are  very  slow  in  its  construc- 
tion, and  prefer  that  it  should  rise  only  ten  feet  a  year,  rather 
than  hazard  its  chance  of  continuing  forever.  How  differently  we 
go  ahead  in  America!  This  new  palace  of  Westminster  will  still 
be  many  years  in  finishing,  but  it  is  worthy  of  the  nation  to  let  it 
thus  grow  after  its  own  fashion.  Alas]  one  fears,  however,  that 
it  is  to  be  made  the  scene  of  the  gradual  taking  down  of  the  na- 
tion itself.  It  is  too  likely  to  prove  the  house  in  which  John 
Bull  will  be  worried  to  death  by  his  own  family. 

In  company  with  a  friend.  I  next  "took  water"  at  Westminster 
bridge,  for  a  trip  down  the  river.  This  sUqU  highway  is  now  a-; 
busy  as  the  Strand  itself — the  spiteful  little  steamers  that  ply  up 
and  down,  being  almost  as  numerous  and  as  noisy  as  the  omnibusses. 
Very  swiftly  we  glide  along  the  river's  graceful  bend,  passing  White- 
hall, Richmond  Terrace,  and  the  house  lately  occupied  by  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel;  shooting  under  II ungerford  bridge,  past  old  Buckingham 
house,  and  the  Adelphi  Terrace,  and  so  under  Waterloo  bridge, 
to  the  Temple  Gardens,  where  we  land,  and  where  I  find  my- 
self delighted  with  the  casual  survey  of  the  different  walks  and 
buildings,  and  especially  with  the  Temple  Church.  Emerging  into 
Fleet  street,  choked  with  carts  and  carriages,  here  is  Temple-bar! 
Passing  under  its  arches,  we  are  in  the  Strand,  and  so  make  our 
way  to  Charing-Cross.  Having  made  a  complete  circuit,  by  land 
and  water,  I  again  went  to  Westminster  bridge,  and  stepping  into 
a  steamer  sailed  up  the  river  to  Chelsea.  Here  we  pass  the  river- 
front of  the  New  Houses  of  Parliament;  and  granting  that  there 
is  a  monotony  of  aspect  in  the  long  stretch  of  the  pile,  as  it  rises 
from  the  water,  I  think  it  must  be  allowed  that,  when  complete, 
with  its  towers  and  decorations,  the  whole,  taking  the  Abbey  also 
into  view,  will  furnish  the  noblest  architectural  display  iu  tho 


38  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

world.  Westminster  bridge  should  be  reconstructed,  in  harmony 
with  the  rest,  and  then,  whoever  may  find  fault  with  the  scene, 
may  be  safely  challenged  to  find  its  parallel  for  magnificence  and 
imperial  effect. 

And  yet  looking  to  the  other  side  of  the  river,  how  far  more 
attractive  to  my  eye  were  the  quiet  gardens  and  the  venerable 
towers  of  Lambeth !  Its  dingy  brick,  and  solemn  little  windows, 
with  the  reverend  ivy  spreading  everywhere  about  its  walls, 
seemed  to  house  the  decent  and  comely  spirit  of  religion  itself: 
and  one  could  almost  gather  the  true  character  of  the  Church  of 
England,  from  a  single  glance  at  this  old  ecclesiastical  palace, 
amid  the  stirring  and  splendid  objects  with  which  it  is  surrounded. 
Old,  and  yet  not  too  old ;  retired,  and  yet  not  estranged  from  men ; 
learned,  and  yet  domestic ;  religious,  yet  nothing  ascetic ;  and  digni- 
fied, without  pride  or  ostentation;  such  is  the  ideal  of  the  Metro- 
political  palace,  on  the  margin  of  the  Thames.  I  thought  as  I 
glided  by,  of  the  time  when  Henry  stopped  his  barge  just  here  to 
take  in  Archbishop  Cranmer,  and  give  him  a  taste  of  his  royal 
displeasure :  and  of  the  time  Avhen  Laud  entered  his  barge  at  the 
same  place,  to  go  by  water  to  the  Tower,  "his  poor  neighbours  of 
Lambeth  following  him  with  their  blessings  and  prayers  for  his 
safe  return."     They  knew  his  better  part. 

We  had  a  fine  view  of  Chelsea  Hospital,  and  passed  by  Chelsea 
Church,  famous  for  the  monument  of  Sir  Thomas  More.  We 
landed  not  far  from  this  Church,  and  called  upon  Martin,  whose 
illustrations  of  Milton  and  "Belshazzar's  Feast"  have  rendered 
him  celebrated  as  a  painter  of  a  certain  class  of  subjects,  and  in  a 
very  peculiar  style.  He  was  engaged  on  a  picture  of  the  Judg- 
ment, full  of  his  mannerism,  and  sadly  blemished  by  offences 
against  doctrinal  truth,  but  not  devoid  of  merit  or  of  interest. 
He  asked  about  Allston  and  his  Belshazzar,  and  also  made  in- 
quiries about  Morse,  of  whose  claim  as  the  inventor  of  the  Elec- 
tric Telegraph,  he  was  entirely  ignorant.  Returning,  we  landed 
at  Lambeth,  and  my  friend  left  his  card  at  the  Archbishop's;  ob- 
serving, as  Ave  passed  into  the  court,  that  we  should  find  the  door 
of  the  residence  itself  standing  open,  with  a  servant  ready  to  re- 
ceive us,  as  we  accordingly  did.      Such  is  the  custom. 

We  then  crossed  Westminster  bridge,  and  went  to  Whitehall, 
on  foot,  visiting  the  Banqueting-room,  now  a  royal  chapel.  The 
Apotheosis  of  James  the  First,  by  Ilubens,  adorns  the  roof,  but  I 
tried  in  vain  to  be  pleased  with  it.  The  first  question — "which 
is  the  fatal  window  through  which  King  Charles  passed  to  the 


THE   BANQUETING-KOOM.  89 

scaffold" — I  asked  quite  in  vain,  for  nobody  seems  to  be  entirely- 
sure  about  it.  The  chapel  is  heavy,  and  unecclesiastical,  although 
more  like  a  sanctuary,  in  appearance,  than  the  Sistine  Chapel  in 
the  Vatican.  We  went  into  the  court,  or  garden  behind  the 
Banqueting-house,  to  look  at  James  Second's  statue,  by  Grinling 
Gibbons.  It  is  in  Roman  costume,  and  denied  by  soot  and  dust, 
and  the  peculiar  pointing  position  of  one  of  its  hands,  has  given 
currency  to  a  vulgar  error,  that  it  indicates  the  spot  where  the 
blood  of  Charles  fell  from  the  scaffold.  A  soldier  mounts  guard 
in  this  place,  for  it  is  yet  regarded  as  a  royal  palace;  all  beside  is 
quiet,  and  I  often  returned  to  the  spot  during  my  residence  in 
London,  as  one  well  tited  for  meditation,  recalling  such  historical 
associations  as  memory  retained,  and  striving  in  vain  to  conceive 
it  possible  that  here,  in  very  deed,  such  thrilling  scenes  were  en- 
acted two  hundred  years  ago.  Even  now  there  is  nothing  ancient 
about  the  looks  of  Whitehall.  It  requires  an  effort  to  connect  it 
at  all  with  the  past:  and  when  one  sees  the  vane  upon  its  roof, 
and  imagines  it  the  very  one  to  which  James  Second  was  always 
looking,  while  he  prayed  the  Virgin  and  all  the  Saints  to  keep 
William  of  Orange  off  the  coast,  even  the  era  of  1688  seems  re- 
duced to  a  modern  date,  and  stripped  of  all  its  character  as 
something  ancestral,  and  belonging  to  past  time.  I  confess  that 
in  this  garden  of  Whitehall,  I  awoke  from  an  American  illusion, 
and  began  to  feel  that  two  centuries  is  a  very  short  period  of 
time;  just  as  afterward,  on  the  Continent,  the  scale  took  another 
slide  upwards,  and  taught  me  to  feel  that  everything  is  modern 
which  has  happened  since  the  Christian  era.  This  discovery 
gives  one  a  curious  sensation,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  the 
happier  for  having  seen  monuments  of  real  antiquity,  which  have 
had  the  effect  of  freshening  the  comparative  antiquity  of  England, 
and  of  reducing  everything  in  America  to  the  dead  level  of  time 
present,  I  was  happier  when  I  visited  the  ruins  of  the  old  Fort 
on  Lake  George,  and  innocently  imagined  it  a  spot  both  ancient 
and  august. 

My  reader  will  think  my  day  sufficiently  full  already,  but  I 
must  not  conclude  without  some  reference  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
evening.  I  drove  out  to  Chelsea,  where  the  pupils  of  St.  Mark's 
Training  College  performed  the  Oratorio  of  "Israel  in  Egypt.*' 
The  hail-stone  chorus  was  given  with  great  effect,  and  several  of  the 
solos  and  recitatives  were  creditably  executed.  I  saw  there,  among 
others,  Lord  Monteagle,  better  known  as  Mr.  Spring  Rice,  but  was 
more  pleased  with  an  introduction  to  the  head  of  the  College,  Mr. 


40  IMFKEiSSIONS   OF    ENGLAND. 

Derwent  Coleridge,  who  showed  me  a  very  striking  portrait  of  his 
father —  "the  rapt  one  of  the  godlike  forehead,"  and  made  some 
feeling  allusions  to  his  brother  Hartley,  then  lately  dead.  I  saw 
also  another  member  of  this  interesting  family,  Sara  Coleridge,  one 
of  the  cleverest  of  womankind.  Returning  to  London,  I  stepped 
from  the  carriage  at  Hyde  Park  Corner,  where  chariots  and 
wheels  of  every  description  were  still  rumbling  incessantly,  and 
where  the  gas-lamps  made  it  light  as  day,  though  it  was  now 
eleven  o'clock.  I  looked  at  Apsley -house,  where  the  Iron  Duke 
was  then  living,  and  so  made  my  way  along  Piccadilly  and  St. 
James' s-street,  as  pleasantly  as  if  I  had  known  them  all  my  days, 
but  thinking  such  thoughts  as  nothing  but  an  American's  earliest 
experiences  of  London  life  can  possibly  inspire. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


Hyde  Park — Excursion  to  Oxfordshire. 

My  plan  was  to  fix  my  head-quarters  in  London,  and  to  make 
excursions  thence  into  the  various  parts  of  the  country  which  I 
desired  to  see.  This  enabled  me  to  choose  my  times  for  being  in 
the  Metropolis,  and  also  for  visiting  other  places ;  and  I  found  it 
better,  on  many  accounts,  than  the  more  usual  method  of  seeing 
London  all  at  once,  and  then  going  through  the  rest  of  England  in  a 
tour.  I  took  lodgings  in  Bury-street,  St.  James's,  a  time-hon- 
ored place  for  the  temporary  abode  of  strangers,  and  in  all  re- 
spects convenient  for  my  purposes.  On  looking  into  Peter  Can- 
nintjham.  I  found  I  had  unwittingly  placed  myself  near  the  old 
haunts  of  several  famous  men  of  letters.  Dean  Swift  lodged  in 
this  street  in  1710,  and  Sir  Richard  Steele  about  the  same  time. 
Crabbe  took  his  turn  here  in  1817,  and  here  Tom  Moore  was 
sought  out  by  Lord  Byron,  a  few  years  earlier.  Just  round  the 
corner,  in  Jermyn-street,  Gray  used  to  sojourn;  and  there,  too, 
Sir  Walter  Scott  lodged  for  the  last  time  in  London,  after  his 
return  from  the  Continent  in  1832.  Hard  by,  still  lives  old  Samuel 
Rogers,  and  Murray's  famous  publishing-house  is  but  a  few  steps 
out  of  the  way.  I  was.  at  first,  a  little  provoked  at  Cunningliam 
for  getting  up  a  book  which  tends  to  put  the  most  stupid  visitor  of 
London  on  a  footing  with  the  man  whose  general  reading  has 
fitted  him  to  enjoy  it :  but  many  little  pleasures  which  he  thus 
supplied  me,  by  recalling  things  forgotten,  quite  altered  my  hu- 
mour towards  him;  especially  as  I  soon  reflected  that  the  traveller 
to  whom  he  only  restores  such  information,  must  always  have  the 
advantage  over  one  who  gains  it  for  the  first  time,  at  second 
hand. 

I  could  now  step  into  St.  James's  Park,  and  freshen  my  appe- 
tite for  breakfast,  while  enjoying  its  delightful  air,  and  venerable 


'42  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

I 

associations.  I  soon  learned  how  to  protract  my  walk,  passing 
Buckingham  Palace,  up  Constitution  Hill,  and  so  Into  Hyde 
Park — where  one  may  spend  the  day  delightfully,  and  almost 
fancy  himself  in  the  country.  Indeed,  stretching  one's  rambles 
into  Kensington  Gardens,  it  is  not  easy  to  be  moderate  in  the  en- 
joyment, or  to  return  without  fatigue  ;  so  vast  is  the  extent  of  these 
successive  ranges,  and  so  much  of  England  can  one  find,  as  it  were, 
in  the  midst  of  London.  Oh,  wise  and  prudent  John  Bull,  to  ennoble 
thy  metropolis  with  such  spacious  country-walks,  and  to  sweeten 
it  so  much  with  country  air !  Truly  these  lungs  of  London  are 
vital  to  such  a  Babylon,  and  there  is  no  beauty  to  be  compared  to 
them  in  any  city  I  have  ever  seen.  Talk  of  the  Tuilleries — talk 
of  the  Champs  Ehjsees — you  may  throw  in  Luxembourg  and  Jardin 
des  Plantes  to  boot,  and  in  my  estimation  Hyde  Park  is  worth  the 
whole.  I  do  not  think  the  English  are  half  proud  enough  of 
their  capital,  conceited  as  they  are  about  so  many  things  besides. 
They  are  ashamed  of  Trafalgar  Square  and  some  other  slight  mis- 
takes, and  they  always  apologize  for  London,  and  wonder 
what  a  foreigner  can  find  to  please  him,  in  the  mere  exterior  of 
its  immensity.  But  foreigner,  forsooth !  I  always  felt  that  an 
Anglo-American  may  feel  himself  far  more  at  home  in  London, 
than  many  who  inhabit  there.  "Who  are  the  reigning  family,  but 
a  race  of  Germans,  never  yet  completely  naturalized  either  in 
Church  or  State  1  What  is  England  to  Prince  Albert,  except  as 
he  can  use  it  for  his  own  purposes?  But  to  me,  and  to  many  of 
my  countrymen,  it  is  as  dear  as  heart's  blood ;  every  fibre  of  our 
flesh,  every  particle  of  our  bone,  and  the  whole  fabric  of  our 
thought,  as  well  as  the  vitalizing  spirit  of  our  holy  religion,  be- 
ing derived  from  the  glorious  Isle,  in  whose  own  tongue  we  call 
her  blessed.  It  is  not  as  unfilial  to  America,  but  only  as  faithful 
to  the  antecedents  of  my  own  beloved  country,  that  I  ask  no 
Englishman's  leave  to  walk  the  soil  of  England  with  filial  pride, 
and  in  some  sense  to  claim  "  a  richer  use  of  his,"  than  he  himself 
enjoys.'  He  dwells  in  it,  and  uses  it  of  necessity  for  some  ignoble 
purposes ;  but  I  have  no  associations  with  the  malt-tax,  or  with 
manufactories.  England  reveals  herself  to  me  only  in  her  higher 
and  nobler  character,  as  the  mother,  and  nurse,  and  glorious  pre- 
ceptress of  the  race  to  which  I  belong.  Hence,  I  say,  it  is  only 
a  true  American  who  can  feel  the  entire  and  unmixed  sentiment 
and  poetry  of  England. 

It  was  soon  after  my  arrival  in  the  Metropolis  that  I  went,  one 
afternoon,  to  see  the  display  of  horsemanship,  in  Hyde  Park. 


ROTTEN-ROW.  43 

Strange  that  the  scene  of  so  much  aristocratic  display  should  be 
known  as  ';  Rotten-Row  1"  It  is  a  road  for  saddle-horses  exclu- 
sively, and  very  exclusive  are  the  equestrians  generally,  who  en- 
joy their  delightful  exercise  in  its  pale.  Here  you  see  the  best  of 
horse-flesh,  laden  with  the  "  porcelain-clay"  of  human  flesh. 
The  sides  of  the  road  are  lined  with  pedestrians,  some  of  whom 
touch  their  hats  to  the  riders,  and  are  recognized  in  turn ;  but  most 
of  them  look  wishfully  on  the  sport  of  others,  as  if  they  were  con- 
scious that  they  were  born  to  be  nobody,  and  were  unfeignedly  sorry 
for  it.  Ha !  how  dashingly  the  ladies  go  by,  and  how  ambitiously 
their  favored  companions  display  their  good  fortune  in  attending 
them !  Here  a  gay  creature  rides  independently  enough,  with 
her  footman  at  a  respectful  distance.  She  is  an  heiress,  and  the 
young  gallants  whom  she  scarcely  deigns  to  notice,  are  dying  of 
love  for  her  and  her  guineas.     Here  comes  an  old  gentleman  and 

his  two  beautiful  daughters.     It  is  Lord ,  and  the  elder  of 

the  twain  is  soon  to  be  married,  the  fortunate  expectant  being  a 
nobleman  of  large  estates.  We  look  in  vain  this  afternoon  for 
':  the  Duke."  But  very  likely  we  shall  see  him  before  our  walk 
is  done.  Yonder  whirls  a  barouche,  with  outriders.  It  is  the 
Queen  and  Prince  Albert  taking  an  airing.  A  Bishop  comes 
along  on  horseback.  "It  must  be  one  of  the  Irish  Bishops," 
said  the  friend  with  whom  I  was  walking,  "  for  I  certainly  have 
never  seen  him  before." 

I  now  saw  the  Crystal  Palace  for  the  first  time,  and  scarcely 
looked  at  it  at  all.  It  was  just  what  every  body  knows,  from  ten 
thousand  pictures.  I  had  a  prejudice  against  it,  at  this  time, 
heightened  by  the  fact  that  many,  whom  I  had  met,  had  inno- 
cently taken  it  for  granted  that  an  American  must,  of  course, 
have  come  to  England  to  see  the  show.  The  idea  of  goimz  to 
England  to  look  at  anything  short  of  England  itself!  Besides,  I 
supposed  it  a  mere  toy  of  Prince  Albert's — just  the  thing  for  a 
Dutch  folly — or,  like  the  Russian  ice-palace, 

"  Work  of  imperial  dotage, 

Shining,  and  yet  so  false  !" 

I  looked,  therefore,  and  passed  by.  A  fine  walk  we  had  to 
Kensington  Gardens,  and  round  by  Bayswater,  returning  across 
Hyde  Park.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  the  good  use  to  which  these 
vast  grounds  are  put  by  the  People  proper.  Children  and  their 
nurses  seem  to  take  their  fill  of  them.  It  was  George  the  Second, 
I   think,   who  asked  Walpole   what  it   would  cost  to   fence  in 


4A  IMPRESSIONS  OP  ENGLAND. 

St.  James's  Park,  so  as  to  keep  the  people  out.  "  Only  three 
crowns"  was  the  reply ;  and  the  heavy  Hanoverian  learned  an 
important  lesson,  as  to  the  difference  between  British  freemen, 
and  the  sort  of  people  he  had  been  wont  to  deal  with,  in  his 
darling  Electorate. 

One  morning  I  attended  a  meeting  of  the  Venerable  S.  P.  G. 
The  estimable  Bishop  of  Bangor  presided,  and  the  ordinary 
monthly  business  was  despatched.  On  this  occasion,  I  was  so 
happy  as  to  meet  with  Lord  Lyttleton,  Mr.  Beresford  Hope,  and 
others,  whose  names  are  familiar  to  American  Churchmen,  as 
identified  with  zeal  and  devotion  to  the  noble  work  of  Evangeli- 
zation. The  American  Church,  and  her  relations  with  her  nurs- 
ing Mother,  were  frequently  alluded  to ;  and,  as  an  act  of 
Christian  recognition,  I  found  myself  admitted  a  corresponding 
member  of  the  Society.  Though  I  could  not  suppose  the  com- 
pliment a  personal  one,  designed  as  it  was  in  honor  of  the  Orders 
of  our  Church,  I  felt  it  no  small  privilege  to  receive  this  humble 
share  in  the  noble  organization  to  which,  under  God,  our  Church 
owes  its  existence ;  and  I  felt  it  the  more,  as  being  myself  the 
descendant  of  a  lowly  but  devoted  Missionary,  who  died  in  the 
service  of  the  Society.  I  was  pleased  with  the  earnest,  but  very 
quiet  and  affable  spirit  of  this  meeting.  No  show,  nor  swelling 
words  ;  and  yet  the  spiritual  interests  of  empires,  and  of  national 
Churches,  present  and  yet  to  be,  the  fruits  of  the  Society's  labors, 
were  deeply  and  religiously  weighed,  and  dealt  with.  Beautiful 
tokens  of  the  Society's  fruitfulness  hung  round  the  walls — por- 
traits of  English  Missionary  Bishops,  such  as  Heber,  and  Selwyn, 
and  Broughton.     These  are  its  trophies. 

My  first  excursion  into  the  country  was  made  somewhat  earlier 
than  I  had  forecasted,  in  accepting  a  kind  invitation  to  Cuddes- 
don,  from  the  Bishop  of  Oxford.  This  promised  me  the  double 
pleasure  of  an  immediate  acquaintance  with  Oxford  itself,  and  of 
a  no  less  agreeable  introduction  to  the  eminent  prelate,  whose  ele- 
vation to  that  See  has  so  highly  served  the  dearest  interests  of  the 
Church,  not  in  England  only,  but  also  throughout  Christendom. 
The  name  of  Wilberforce  has  received  new  lustre  in  the  person 
of  this  gifted  divine ;  and  certainly  there  was  no  one  in  England 
whom  I  more  desired  to  see,  for  the  sake  of  the  interest  inspired 
by  public  character  and  by  published  works.  His  known  hospi- 
tality, and  interest  in  visitors  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  relieved 
me  from  surprise  in  receiving  this  unexpected  attention,  and  I 
felt  sure  I  should  experience  no  disappointment  in  indulging  the 


CUDDESDOX.  45 

confidence  and  affection  inspired  by  such  cordiality.  Arriving  in 
Oxford,  I  threw  myself  into  a  cab,  and  set  off  for  the  Bishop's 
residence,  about  eight  miles  distant— taking  a  drive  through 
High-street,  in  my  way.  Every  object  seemed  familiar ;  I  could 
scarcely  believe  that  I  was,  for  the  first  time,  looking  at  those 
venerable  walls.  Here  was  St.  Mary's — here  All  Souls — here 
Queen's — and  there  is  the  tower  of  Magdalen.  Even  ;-  the  Mitre" 
and  "  the  Angel"  looked  like  Inns,  in  which  I  had  often  ';  taken 
mine  ease."  A  few  gownsmen  were  loitering  along  the  streets, 
but  the  town  was  quite  deserted,  it  being  the  Easter  holiday  time. 
Here,  at  last,  were  the  old  gables  of  Magdalen ;  and  now  I  pass 
the  Cherwell,  and  get  a  view  of  Magdalen-walks  on  one  hand, 
and  of  Christ  Church  meadows  on  the  other.  And  now  a  toll- 
gate,  and  now  the  country  road — and  I  can  scarce  conceive  that 
I  have  passed  through  Oxford,  and  that  mine  eyes  have  really 
seen  it,  and  that  fancy,  and  the  pictures,  are  no  longer  my  chief 
medium  of  knowing  how  it  looks.  How  rapidly  I  have  lost  the 
use  of  helps  on  which  I  have  depended  for  years !  Like  the  lame 
man  healed,  I  can  hardly  believe  that  I  have  gone  on  crutches. 
But  honestly,  now — is  the  reality  up  to  what  I  looked  for? 
Thus  I  thought,  and  questioned,  as  I  jogged  along. 

Cuddesdon  is  the  name  of  a  little  hamlet  in  Oxfordshire,  on  a 
pretty  hill,  overlooking  a  wide  extent  of  country,  besprinkled 
with  many  similar  hamlets,  and  distinguished  by  a  pretty  parish 
Church,  and  the  adjoining  residence  or  palace,  of  the  Bishop. 
The  residence  is  one  of  those  rambling  and  nondescript  houses, 
of  ecclesiastical  look,  which  one  associates  with  English  rural 
scenery ;  but  of  a  class  which  it  is  difficult  to  characterize,  ex- 
cept as  something  too  modest  for  a  nobleman's  seat,  and  something 
too  lordly  for  a  vicarage.  The  nearness  of  the  parish  Church 
might,  indeed,  suggest  the  idea  of  the  parson's  abode — but  what 
should  a  parish  priest  want  of  so  large  a  house,  or  of  the  little 
private  chapel  which,  on  one  side,  makes  a  conspicuous  part  of 
the  pile  ?  On  the  whole,  one  might  conceive  it  the  residence  of 
a  Bishop  without  being  told  the  fact,  or  before  descrying  the  arms 
of  the  See,  over  the  entrance,  encircled  by  the  Garter,  of  which 
most  noble  Order,  the  Bishop  is  Chancellor.  Nothing  could  ex- 
ceed the  kindness  and  affability  with  which  the  estimable  prelate 
received  me,  and  made  me  welcome  as  his  guest :  his  manner,  at 
once  dignified  and  engaging,  sufficing  immediately  to  make  a  vis- 
itor at  home  in  his  presence,  however  deeply  impressed  with  rev- 
erence for  his  person.     I  esteemed  it  an  additional  privilege  to  be 


46  IMPRESSIONS    OF   ENGLAND. 

presented  to  the  Bishop's  brother,  Archdeacon  "SVilberforce,  then 
just  arrived  at  the  palace  from  his  own  residence  in  Yorkshire: 
and  I  soon  found,  among  the  guests  of  the  Bishop,  several  other 
persons  of  eminent  position  in  society,  from  whose  agreeable  in- 
tercourse I  derived  the  highest  satisfaction.  I  had  arrived  on  a 
Saturday,  and,  after  a  pleasant  evening,  the  week  was  solemnly 
closed  in  the  private  chapel,  with  appropriate  prayers.  Here, 
twice  every  day,  all  the  members  of  the  household,  the  family, 
the  guests,  and  the  servants  together,  are  assembled  before  the 
Lord  their  Maker,  while  the  Bishop,  like  a  patriarch,  assisted  by 
his  chaplains,  offers  the  sacrifices  of  prayer  and  thanksgiving,  and 
sanctifies  his  house.  It  was  beautiful,  on  one  occasion,  to  see 
such  a  household  together  receiving  the  Holy  Eucharist,  and  it 
was  good  to  participate  in  the  solemnity.  The  sanctity  of  my 
privilege,  as  the  guest  of  such  a  family,  forbids  any  further  allu- 
sion to  the  delightful  scenes  of  domestic  piety  of  which  I  was  so 
confidingly  made  a  sharer  ;  but  I  cannot  withhold  a  tribute  to  the 
character  of  a  true  Bishop,  who  has  incidentally  enabled  me  to 
testify  of  at  least  one  English  prelate,  that  "  he  serves  God  with 
all  his  house,"  and  makes  that  service  the  one  thing  indispensable 
and  most  important,  in  all  the  distributions  of  private  life,  its 
kindly  offices,  and  endearing  charities. 

I  accompanied  his  Lordship,  next  day,  into  Oxford,  where  he 
preached  at  St.  Ebbe's  to  a  very  large  congregation.  This 
Church  is  very  plain  and  countryfied — astonishingly  so  for  Oxford  ; 
but  the  worshippers  were  devout  and  earnest  in  their  attention. 
The  sermon  was  suited  to  the  Service  for  the  day,  and  I  was  not 
disappointed  in  the  manner,  nor  yet  in  the  matter,  of  it.  The 
Bishop  is  a  truly  eloquent  man.  His  voice  is  sweet,  and  often 
expressive  of  deep  feeling,  or  of  tender  emotion.  He  uses  more 
action  than  most  English  preachers,  or  rather  he  has  much  less  of 
inactivity  in  his  preaching.  Occasionally  he  looks  off  from  his 
manuscript,  and  launches  into  warm  extemporaneous  address. 
Altogether,  I  regard  him  as  very  happily  combining  the  advan- 
tages of  the  English  and  American  pulpits.  More  than  any  other 
of  whom  I  know  anything,  he  unites  the  delicacy  and  refinement 
of  the  former  with  the  earnestness  and  practical  effect  of  the 
latter. 

After  a  short  visit  to  Wadham  College,  where  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  the  late  Vice-Chancellor  of  the  University, 
Dr.  Symmons,  we  returned  to  Cuddesdon.  Our  road  lay  through 
the  village  of  "Wheatley,  where  the  bells  were  chiming  for  service 


AN    EPITAPH.  47 

as  we  passed.  Ascending  the  hills,  we  alighted  and  walked  ;  and, 
by  and  by,  the  good  Bishop,  pointing  to  a  little  hamlet  not  far  off, 
said  to  roc.  ';  there  lived,  once  upon  a  time,  a  man  named  John 
Milton.  There  is  Forest  Hill — there  is  Shotover — and  walking 
over  these  hills,  he  composed  Allegro  and  Penaerceo."  How  it 
thrilled  my  soul,  as  I  listened  to  his  words,  and  looked  delightedly 
over  the  scenes  to  which  he  directed  my  attention  !  We  soon 
reached  Cuddesdon,  and  attended  divine  service  in  the  parish 
Church,  which  was  filled  chiefly  with  a  rustic  people,  many  of 
them  in  hob-nailed  shoes,  and  brown  frocks,  neatly  arrayed,  but 
in  the  manner  of  a  peasantry,  such  as  we  know  nothing  about  in 
America.  The  chancel  of  the  Church  has  been  lately  restored 
by  the  Bishop,  and  is  in  excellent  taste  and  keeping  throughout. 
The  Church  itself  is  a  cruciform  one,  originally  Norman,  but 
much  altered,  and  in  parts  injured,  daring  successive  ages.  Its 
aisles  are  early  English  ;  but  many  details,  in  perpendicular,  have 
been  introduced  in  different  portions  of  the  pile.  Here  and  there 
in  the  wood-work  are  touches  of  Jacobean  re-modeling.  Still, 
altogether,  it  is  a  most  interesting  Church,  and  it  afforded  me 
great  pleasure  to  worship  then1,  with  the  rustics  and  their  Bishop, 
and  with  a  pretty  fair  representation  of  the  divers  ranks  of 
English  society,  all  uniting,  happily  and  sweetly,  in  their  anc  - 
tral  worship.  It  was  a  delicious  day.  and  the  glimpses  of  sky  and 
country,  which  we  gained  through  the  portals  and  windows.  Avcre 
additional  inspirers  of  gratitude  to  God.  After  service,  the 
Bishop  led  me  round  the  Church,  and  showed  me  the  grave  where 
one  of  his  predecessors  had  laid  a  beloved  child.  A  stone  lay 
upon  it,  containing  the  exquisite  lament  of  Bishop  Lowth  for  hi. 
daughter,  which  I  remembered  to  have  seen  before,  but  which 
never  seemed  half  so  touching  and  pathetic  as  now,  while  Bishop 
Wilberforce  repeated  it  from  the  chiseled  inscription : — 

"  Cara  Maiia,  Vale  ;   at  veniet  felicius  svum 

Quando  iteruin  tecum,  aim  rnqdo  dignus,  ero  : 
Cara  redi,  Ueta  turn  dicam  voce,  paternos 
Eja  age  in  amplexus,  cara  Maria,  rcdi !  " 

That  evening,  as  we  sat  at  the  Bishop's  table,  the  bells  of  Cud- 
desdon pealed  forth  a  curfew  chime.  Oh,  how  swreet !  A  lady 
then  reminded  me  that  Cuddesdon  was  one  of  the  ;i  upland  ham- 
lets." alluded  to  in  L 'Allegro. — 

"  Where  the  merry  hells  ring  round, 
And  the  jocund  rebecks  sound." 


48  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

And  so  happily  closed  my  day,  that,  but  for  some  reverting 
thoughts  to  the  dear  home  I  had  left  behind  me,  I  must  say  I 
went  as  sweetly  to  sleep,  in  the  spell  of  its  delights,  as 
did  poor  Pilgrim  in  that  chamber  of  his  Progress,  from  whence 
he  was  sure  of  a  view  of  the  Delectable  Mountains  as  soon  as  he 
should  awake  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER    VII 


Miltonian  ramble — Forcst-hill^tc. 

Horton',  in  Buckinghamshire,  is  supposed  to  have  supplied  to 
Milton  the  imagery  of  the  Allegro  and  Penseroso,  chiefly  because 
he  there  composed  those  delightful  poems,  in  which  the  very 
essence  of  what  is  most  poetical  in  the  scenery  and  rural  life  of 
England  is  so  admirably  condensed.  But  if  it  could  be  shown 
that,  so  early  in  the  maiden  life  of  Mary  Powell  as  when  these 
poems  appeared,  she  had  become  the  cynosure  of  Milton's  eyes, 
and  had  attracted  him  to  Forest-Hill  as  a  visitor,  it  might,  one 
would  suppose,  be  very  fairly  maintained,  that  this  place  alone 
answers,  in  all  respects,  to  the  demands  of  the  poetry  in  question. 
It  may  at  least  be  said  with  justice,  that  when  the  poet  visited 
Forest-Hill  with  his  bride,  he  realized  more  perfectly  there  than 
anywhere  else,  the  rural  delights  which  he  has  so  exquisitely  de- 
tailed ;  and  which  he  has  invested  at  one  time  with  the  sprightly 
aspect  in  which  Nature  reveals  herself  to  youth  and  health,  and, 
at  another,  with  the  more  sentimental  beauties  which  she  wears 
before  the  eye  of  refined  and  meditative  maturity.  However,  it 
was  not  for  me  to  settle  such  nice  questions.  Forest-Hill  lies 
not  far  from  Milton,  where  the  poet's  grandfather  lived,  and  from 
which  comes  his  name ;  and  Shotover-Forest,  of  which  the  grand- 
father was  ranger,  is  part  of  the  same  vicinage.  It  is  very  pro- 
bable that  the  Powells  were  early  friends  of  the  poet,  and  that 
his  youthful  imagination  was  wont  to  haunt  the  whole  hill-country 
thereabout,  in  honour  of  the  lady's  charms  to  whom  he  afterwards 
gave  his  hand.  Such  at  least  was  my  creed,  for  the  time,  when 
I  enjoyed  a  delightful  walk  over  the  scenes  in  the  company  of  in- 
telligent persons  whose  remarks  often  heightened  not  a  little  the 
extraordinary  pleasures  of  the  day. 

Among  the  Bishop's  guests,  at  breakfast,  there  was  the  usual 

3 


50  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

planning  of  occupations  for  the  morning,  and  I  heard  with  great 
satisfaction  the  proposal  of  a.  walk  to  Forest-Hill,  in  which  it  was 
supposed  I  might  be  glad  to  share.     Our  party  was  soon  made  up, 

consisting  of  the  Archdeacon,  the  Rev.  Mr.  J ,  Sir  C 

A ,  a  young  Etonian,  closely  related  to  the  Bishop's  family,  and 

the  Bishop's  youngest  son.  After  some  preliminary  reconnoiterings 
about  the  hamlet  of  Cucldesdon  itself,  (of  which  the  adjoining 
slopes  and  meadows  furnish  very  pretty  views,)  off  we  went,  well 
shod  and  with  sturdy  staves  in  hand,  and  in  all  respects  well- 
appointed  for  an  English  ramble;  which  implies  everything  re- 
quisite for  thorough  enjoyment  of  the  diversion.  We  stretched 
our  legs,  as  Walton_would  say,  over  Shotover-Hill,  encountering 
a  variety  of  rustic  objects  in  the  fields  and  farms;  here  a  fold  of 
sheep,  and  there  a  hedge,  and  again  a  ditch,  or  a  turnip-field,  but 
everything  in  its  turn  was  of  interest  to  me  as  presenting,  in  some 
form  or  other,  a  contrast  to  similar  objects  in  my  own  country, 
the  advantage  being  generally  in  favor  of  England,  so  far  as  the 
picturesque  is  concerned.  I  can  indeed  think  of  many  a  walk 
in  America,  incomparably  more  interesting  than  this  in  the  char- 
acter of  it  scenery ;  but  what  I  mean  is,  that  the  same  kind  of 
country  with  us,  would  have  been  almost  devoid  of  interest. 
Thus,  instead  of  presenting  field  after  field,  cultivated  like  a  gar- 
den, beautifully  hedged  and  exhibiting  every  mark  of  careful 
husbandry ;  or  a  succession  of  green  pastures,  in  which  fine  cat- 
tle, and  the  whitest  and  fattest  of  sheep  were  disposed  in  a  man- 
ner entirely  suitable  to  the  painter;  or  instead  of  a  succession  of 
views  of  the  most  pleasing  variety ;  here  a  hamlet  and  spire,  and 
there  a  neat  cottage,  and  there  a  lordly  mansion  among  trees, 
and  there  a  snug  farmhouse :  the  same  number  of  miles  with  us, 
over  a  slightly  undulating  country,  devoted  to  pasturage  and 
farming,  would  scarcely  have  offered  a  single  scene  on  which  the 
eye  could  rest  with  satisfaction.  At  length,  we  reached  Shoto- 
ver-Lodge,  which  has  unfortunately  been  rebuilt  within  the  last 
hundred  years,  but  the  original  of  which  supplies  the  ideal  of 
those  famous  lines  in  U Allegro — 

"  Russet  lawns  and  fallows  gray 
Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray  ; 
Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 
Bosomed  high  in  tufted  trees, 
Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 
The  cynosure  of  neighboring  eyes/' 


FOREST-HILL   CHURCH.  51 

Next  Ave  descended  into  a  daisied  meadow,  and  looked  for  the 
plowman  and  the  milkmaid,  as  it  was  yet  too  early  for  the  tanned 
haycock,  or  the  mower  whetting  his  scythe.  Here  the  Archdea- 
con recalled  to  my  mind  a  criticism  of  Warton's,  which  I  had 
quite  forgotten,  asking  me  if  I  remembered  the  meaning  of  the 
lines — 

"  And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale, 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale," 

in  which  the  idea  is  not  that  of  narrative,  or  eclogue,  hut  the 
more  English  one  of  Thyrsis  turning  the  sheep  out  of  fold  for 
the  day,  and  counting  them,  one  by  one ;  that  is,  telling  the  tale, 
like  the  tale  of  brick  exacted  by  the  Egyptians,  as  we  read  in 
Genesis.  Many  such  comments  from  my  companions  gave  great 
inspiration  to  the  ramble,  which  brought  us  at  last  up  the  sides 
of  Forest-Hill  itself,  where  we  first  encountered  some  cottages  of 
surprising  neatness,  inhabited  by  thrifty  tenants,  who  farmed  a 
few  acres  of  their  own  hiring.  Here  Sir  C ,  like  a  true  Pro- 
tectionist, stopped  to  ask  a  few  questions  of  Hodge  and  his  family 
about  the  prospects  of  "  the  British  farmer,"  and  the  practical  re- 
sults of  Cobdcnism ;  and  I  fancied,  from  the  interest  taken  in  the  dis- 
closures by  my  young  friend  from  Eton,  that  the  lads  who  now  play 
cricket  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  under  "  the  antique  towers," 
are  not  unlikely,  at  some  future  day,  to  maintain  the  rights  of  the 
landed  gentry,  with  the  same  primary  reference  to  agriculture 
which  so  largely  distinguishes  Mr.  Disraeli.  And  now  we  came 
to  the  little  Church  of  Forest-Hill,  where,  for  aught  I  know, 
Milton  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  the  good  old  cavalier,  but 
where  he  could  not  have  been  surrounded  by  a  very  great  crowd 
of  rejoicing  friends  upon  the  happy  occasion,  as  the  sacred  place 
will  scarcely  contain  threescore  persons  at  a  time.  It  has  no 
tower,  but  only  one  of  those  pretty  little  gable-cots  for  the  bell, 
so  familiar  of  late  in  our  own  improving  architecture  of  country 
Churches.  The  altar-window  is  near  the  road,  and  the  bell-gable 
is  at  the  other  extremity,  surmounting  the  slope  of  the  land,  on 
a  pretty  terrace  of  which,  embosomed  among  the  trees  and  shrubs, 
is  situated  the  parsonage.  The  little  Church  itself  is  of  the  early 
English  period,  but  has  repairs  in  almost  every  variety  of  pointed 
style,  and  some  in  no  style  at  all.  It  has  had  very  little  aid 
from  the  builder,  however,  for  nearly  a  century.  In  the  early 
Caroline  period,  or  a  little  before  the  date  of  Milton's  marriage, 
it  was  probably  new-roofed  and  put  into  good  order,  possibly  as 
the  result  of  injunctions  from  the  King  and  Council,  with  some 


52  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

of  whom,  "the  filthy-lying  of  Churches"  was  not  reckoned  a 
proof  of  growing  godliness  in  the  nation.  Accordingly  I  noticed 
on  one  of  the  tie-beams  of  the  roof,  the  inscription,  C.  1630  R.; 
and  again  on  the  door,  C.  R.  1635.  In  the  churchyard  is  a  re- 
markably fine  holly  tree,  and,  what  is  still  more  interesting,  the 
grave  of  Mickle,  the  translator  of  the  Lusiad.  Here  he  lies,  ig- 
norant alike  that  his  Lusiad  is  almost  forgotten,  and  that  his  little 
ballad  of  Cumnor-Hall  has  reproduced  itself  in  the  world-famous 
story  of  Kenilworth.  We  ventured  to  call  at  the  parsonage, 
where  we  were  very  courteously  shown  the  parish-register,  a  lit- 
tle old  parchment  book,  in  which  I  observed  the  entry  of  Mary 
Powell's  christening,  and  also  the  record  of  burial  of  persons 
brought  in  after  such  and  such  a  fight,  in  the  Civil  Wars.  In  a 
nice  little  cottage  hard  by,  we  found  an  old  dame  teaching  half- 
a-dozen  children ;  and  if  any  one  marvels  at  my  mentioning  so  in- 
significant a  fact,  let  me  say  that  it  was  one  of  the  most  pleasing 
of  my  day's  adventures  to  visit  this  school,  which  seemed  to  be 
the  original  of  many  a  queer  cut,  familiar  from  the  painted  story- 
books of  the  nursery.  The  cottage  seemed  to  contain  but  one 
room,  the  dame's  bed  being  turned  up  against  the  wall,  and  neat- 
ly concealed  by  a  check  curtain.  The  windows  were  casements, 
with  diamond  panes — and  the  walls  were  so  thick,  that  the  win- 
dow-sill afforded  space  for  several  boxes  of  plants,  set  there  for 
the  sunlight.  The  floor  was  so  neat,  that  it  might  have  served 
for  a  table  without  offence  to  the  appetite;  sundry  shelves  shone 
with  polished  pewter  and  tin ;  the  whitewash,  without  and  with- 
in, was  fresh  and  sweet;  and  sundry  vines  were  trained  about 
the  door.  The  little  scholars,  evidently  the  children  of  laboring 
people,  were  tidy  in  their  appearance  too,  and  they  sat,  each  upon 
his  stool,  with  A-B-C-Book  held  demurely  before  the  nose,  and 
eyes  asquint  at  the  visitors.  Every  thing  convinced  me  that  the 
old  dame  was  a  strict  disciplinarian,  whose  "  moral  suasion"  con- 
sisted in  the  rod  of  Solomon,  fairly  displayed  before  the  eyes  of 
the  urchins,  and  no  doubt  faithfully  used.  And  yet  nothing 
could  exceed  the  good-nature  and  propriety  of  her  appearance, 
except  the  humility  with  which  she  seemed  to  regard  the  literary 
pretensions  of  her  academy.  Good-bye,  dame!  Reverend  is 
thy  little  starched  cap,  and  dignified  thy  seat  in  the  corner  of  the 
chimney.  True,  they  teach  greater  things  hard  by,  at  Oxford ;  but 
thou  art  an  humble  co-worker  with  its  ablest  Dons  and  Doctors: 
and  happy  are  the  children,  who  have  only  to  peep  out  of  their 
school-house  door  to  see  the  top-rounds  of  the  ladder,  about  the 


milton's  well.  53 

foot  of  wliich  they  climb ;  even  the  towers  of  Christ  Church,  and 
of  Magdalen,  and  the  dome  of  the  Kadcliffe  Library. 

"Yes,"  said  one  of  my  companions — "when  the  Great  Tom  of 
Oxford  rings  its  hundred-and-one  of  a  summer  evening,  then, 
standing  on  this  hill,  you  will  get  the  meaning  of  Milton's 
lines : — 

"  '  Oft,  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground 
I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 
Over  some  wide-watered  shore, 
Swinging  slow,  with  sullen  roar.'" 

To  which  I  ventured  to  object,  that  although  the  heavy  sound  of  a 
bell  like  the  Great  Tom  would  alone  justify  the  description  in  the 
last  of  these  lines,  I  saw  nothing  in  the  view  before  me,  to  ac- 
count for  the  allusion  to  a  "  wide-watered  shore."  This,  how- 
ever, was  met  by  the  assurance  that  the  little  rivulet,  which 
might  be  seen  in  the  mead,  was  not  unfrequently  lost  in  a 
spreading  inundation,  and  that  at  such  times  nothing  could  be 
more  descriptive  than  the  very  words  of  the  poem !  This,  I  was 
bound  to  aclmit  as  satisfactory.  And  now  I  made  a  discovery  of 
my  own.  Hard  by  the  dame's  cottage  I  found  a  spring,  over- 
arched with  substantial  masonry,  and  adorned  witli  ivy.  I 
suggested  that  John  Milton  had  certainly  tasted  of  that  water, 
for  that  the  well  was  antique,  and  evidently  designed  for  the  use 

of  a  gentleman's  household;  to  which  Sir  C ,  who  is  a  judge 

of  such  matters,  at  one  assented,  pronouncing  it  of  the  period  of 
Mary  Powell's  youth,  and  paying  my  discovery  the  practical 
compliment  of  producing  his  sketch-book,  and  drawing  it  on  the 
spot.  A  similar  drawing  he  made  of  the  Powell  house  itself,  to 
which  we  now  proceeded.  It  presents  the  remains  of  a  much 
larger  house,  but  even  in  its  reduced  dimensions,  is  quite  sufficient 
for  a  comfortable  farmer.  Still  the  rose,  the  sweet-briar  and 
eglantine  are  redolent  beneath  its  casements;  the  cock,  at  the 
barn-door,  may  be  seen  from  any  of  its  windows ;  and  doubtless 
the  barn  itself  is  the  very  one  in  which  the  shadowy  flail  of 
Robin  Goodfellow  threshed  all  night,  to  earn  his  bowl  of  cream. 
In  the  house  itself  we  were  received  by  the  farmer's  daughter, 
who  looked  like  "the  neat-handed  Phillis"  herself;  although  her 
accomplishments  were,  by  no  means,  those  of  a  rustic  maiden,  for 
she  evidently  had  entered  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  place,  and 
imbued  herself  with  that  of  the  poetry  in  no  mean  degree.  TVe 
were  indebted  to  her  for  the  most  courteous  reception,  and  were 


5-i  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

conducted  by  her  into  several  apartments  of  the  house,  concern- 
ing all  of  which  she  was  able  to  converse  very  intelligently.  In 
the  kitchen,  with  its  vast  hearth  and  over-hanging  chimney,  we 
discovered  tokens  of  the  good-living  for  which  the  old  manor- 
house  was  no  doubt  famous  in  its  day:  and  in  its  floor,  was  a 
large  stone  said  to  have  been  removed  from  a  room,  now  destroy- 
ed, which  was  formerly  the  poet's  study.  The  garden,  in  its 
massive  wall,  and  ornamented  gateway,  and  an  old  sundial,  re- 
tains some  trace  of  its  manorial  dignities  in  former  times — when 
the  maiden  Mary  sat  in  her  bower,  thinking  of  her  inspired  lover ; 
or  when,  perchance,  the  runaway  wife  sighed  and  wept  here  over 
a  letter  brought  by  the  post,  commanding  Mistress  Milton  to  re- 
turn to  her  duty  in  a  dark  corner  of  London,  on  pain  of  her 
husband's  displeasure,  and  of  being  made  the  heroine  of  a  book 
on  divorce  !  Our  fair  conductress  next  called  our  attention  to 
an  outhouse,  now  degraded  to  the  office  of  domestic  brewing,  but 
which  she  supposed  to  be  the  "still,  removed  place"  of  Penseroso; 
and  in  proof  of  the  nobler  office  to  which  it  had  been  originally 
designed,  she  pointed  out  the  remains  of  old  pargetting,  or  orna- 
mental plaster-work,  in  its  gal)les.  The  grace  with  which  she 
used  this  term  of  art,  would  have  rejoiced  the  soul  of  an  ecclesi- 
ological  enthusiast.  Moreover,  she  brought  forth  a  copy  of  Sir 
William  Jones'  Letters,  and  pointed  out  to  us  his  description  of 
the  place,  proving  that  our  researches  on  Forest-Hill  can  make 
no  pretensions  to  originality,  though  certainly  he  could  not  boast 
of  the  advantages  we  derived  from  the  illustrative  powers  of  our 
hostess.  It  was  her  idea  that  the  house  had  originally  been  a 
convent;  and  this  notion,  she  said,  receives  force  from  the  lines: — 

"  Come,  pensive  nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure,"  etc — 

imagery,  which,  in  her  opinion,  could  only  be  suggested  by  the 
associations  of  the  spot.  Many  a  worse  theory  in  literature  has 
been  built  upon  foundations  quite  as  slender ;  and  so  without 
committing  ourselves  to  this  interpretation,  but  with  many  thanks 
for  the  hint,  and  for  all  her  civility,  we  respectfully  bade  adieu 
to  the  house,  and  its  respectable  occupants,  with  all  necessary 
apologies  for  our  intrusion. 

Next  morning,  when  I  met  Sir  C at  breakfast,  he  startled 

me  by  throwing  upon  the  table  two  accurate  and  beautiful  draw- 
ings of  the  well  and  mansion  at  Forest-Hill.  He  had  produced 
them  from  the  little  sketches  which  I  had  seen  him  take  upon  the 


SIR  WILLIAM   JONES.  55 

spot ;  and  as  they  must  have  been  made  either  very  late  at  night, 
or  v-erv  early  in  the  morning,  they  were  pleasing  proofs  of  his  kind 
disposition  to  gratify  and  oblige  me,  by  the  gift  of  a  memorial  of 
our  Miltonian  day,  that  must  long  afford  me  the  additional  pleasure 
of  renewing  its  associations  with  him.  In  a  few  hours  I  bade 
farewell  to  Cuddcsdon;  but  it  so  turned  out  that  some  of  the  ac- 
quaintances there  formed,  were  subsequently  renewed  in  other 
places,  and  in  travel  on  the  Continent.  Xor  can  I  forbear  to  mention 
with  gratitude,  that  the  kind  attentions  of  the  Bishop  to  his  guest. 
so  far  from  ceasing  when  I  had  taken  leave,  were  continued 
through  the  whole  period  of  my  sojourn  in  England,  and  fre- 
quently opened  to  me  unexpected  sources  of  benefit  and  enjoy- 
ment. 

But  I  must  not  conclude  without  observing,  with  reference 
to  Forest-Hill,  that  Sir  William  Jones  declares  its  groves  to  have 
been  long  famous  for  nightingales;  while,  at  the  same  time,  by 
distinctly  recognizing  the  "  distant  mountains  that  seem  to  sup- 
port the  clouds,"  as  part  of  the  view  to  be  gained  from  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill,  he  has  done  much  to  identity  the  spot  as  indeed 
the  true  scene  of  the  poems.  It  is  allowed  that  nothing  like 
mountains  are  to  be  seen  from  Horton ;  but  Sir  William  fully 
justifies  the  allusion,  as  suited  to  Forest-Hill,  while  at  the  same 
time  he  removes  all  ground  for  the  hackneyed  complaint,  that 
this  reference  to  mountains  is  a  blemish  to  the  poem,  as  being 
wholly  unwarranted  by  the  character  of  English  scenery. 


CHAPTER    VIII 


Oxford — New  College — Magdalen. 

Now  came  my  first  day  in  Oxford — a  day  depended  upon  from 
boyhood,  and  from  which  I  had  expected  more  quiet  and  medi- 
tative delight  than  from  any  other  enjoyment  whatever.  To 
every  one  who  has  made  English  literature  and  English  history  a 
study,  I  need  not  explain  why.  But  Oxford  has  not  only  a  lit- 
erary prestige :  it  is  so  intimately  connected  with  the  history  of 
our  holy  religion,  that  all  other  associations  receive,  as  it  were, 
an  unction  from  this.  Every  college  has  its  history ;  every 
stone,  and  every  tree,  and  every  turf,  suggest  ennobling  reflections, 
as  memorials  of  departed  worth,  but  the  hallowed  memory  of 
Martyrs  sheds  over  all  a  deep  and  sober  glory,  that  awes  while  it 
inspires,  I  know  that  our  age  has  seen  men,  aye,  and  Oxford 
men,  who  could  sneer  at  the  reverend  names  of  Cranmer,  and 
Latimer,  and  Ridley :  but  who  that  has  a  heart  not  absolutely 
dead  to  generous  emotion,  but  must  feel  a  warm  re-action  in  view 
of  such  impotent  malignity  ?  Who,  in  the  days  of  the  apostate 
and  the  dupe,  can  go  to  Oxford  without  blessing  God  that  other 
days  have  left  us  the  blessed  example  of  men  faithful  unto  death, 
and  triumphing  in  the  fire  ? 

I  stopped  at  "  The  Angel,"  but  it  was  not  long  before  I  found 
myself  hospitably  taken  up,  and  transported  to  the  house  of  a 
friend  in  the  Turl,  next  door  to  Exeter  College.  My  kind  enter- 
tainer was  one  widely  known  throughout  Anglo-Saxondom,  not 
only  by  the  books  which  he  publishes,  but  by  those  also  which 
he  writes :  and  to  whose  elementary  works  on  architecture  we,  in 
America,  are  indebted  for  about  all  that  is  popularly  known  of 
that  beautiful  art  and  science.  As  it  was  now  vacation,  I  had 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  Oxford  first,  as  it  were,  in  scene,  with- 
out the  dramatis  persona;  and  no  one  is  more  capable  than  my 
kind  host,  of  explaining  the  antiquarian  and  architectural  glories 


WILLIAAI  OF   WYKEHAM.  57 

of  Oxford  to  a  stranger.     As  he  courteously  gave  me  his  valua- 
ble time,  I  made  my  primary  rounds  under  his  guidance. 

As  I  came  into  Oxford,  from  Cuddesdon,  I  heard  the  bells  of 
St.  Mary's  in  full  peal,  and  experienced  an  exhilarating  emotion 
that  greatly  heightened  my  impressions.  After  my  arrival  in  the 
Turl — a  name  which  indicates  that  the  street  was  once  a  country- 
lane,  guarded  by  a  turn-stile — I  took  my  second  walk  through  the 
city,  my  first  having  been  on  the  previous  Sunday,  passing  from 
St.  Ebbe's  to  Wadham  College,  with  the  Bishop.  Now,  begin- 
ning with  New  College  and  the  glories  of  William  of  Wykeham, 
I  felt  a  new  impulse  of  wonder  and  admiration,  as  if  the  half 
had  not  been  told  me.  In  vain  docs  the  pedant  complain  of  the 
architecture  here  displaying  the  genius  of  that  munificent  founder, 
and  tell  us  that  it  marks  a  decline  from  the  elevation  of  the 
decorated  period  ;  for  who  can  but  see,  in  what  is  called  decline, 
something  much  more  like  an  elaborate  adaptation  of  sacred  art 
to  academic  purposes,  exhibiting  high  invention,  and  a  sense  of 
the  fitting  and  appropriate,  which  proves  a  taste  truly  refined,  and 
a  fancy  rich  and  creative  ?  So,  at  least,  it  strikes  me ;  and  the 
moral  element  is  not  less  observable,  the  very  stones  seeming  vital 
and  instinct  with  the  designer's  great  soul  and  spirit.  Thus  the 
gateways,  as  has  been  well  remarked,  exhibit  strength  and  utility, 
with  little  to  advertise  what  is  within ;  the  domestic  part  is  sim- 
ple, and  chaste  and  homelike  ;  the  hall  bespeaks  a  generous  hos- 
pitality, and  suggests  the  social  and  civilizing  character  with 
which  religion  invests  the  table  and  the  meal,  and  elevates  it  to 
a  feast  of  reason ;  while,  at  last,  the  chapel  is  full  of  divine  ma- 
jesty, and  commands  abasement  of  self  in  the  house  of  God,  and 
at  the  gate  of  heaven.  Wykeham  was,  for  his  day,  a  reformer, 
as  really  as  Wyekliffe,  and  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  the 
true  Anglican  alone  has  a  right  to  glory  in  his  achievements. 
They  mark  a  period  of  contest  with  the  papacy,  every  step  of 
which  contributed  to  the  ultimate  liberation  of  the  Church  of 
England  from  its  Italian  yoke,  and  they  were  perfected  in  that 
English  spirit,  against  which  the  Pope  was  always  at  war,  and 
which  late  apostates  from  our  Xicene  faith  detest  and  anathema- 
tize as  schism.  True  it  is  that  we  differ  with  Wykeham  and 
Waynefleet  in  many  items  of  opinion  and  practice,  in  which  they 
were  no  wiser  than  their  times;  but  they  are  one  with  us,  histor- 
ically, in  the  communion  of  the  Church  of  England,  in  the 
maintenance  of  her  individuality  and  independence,  and  in  the 
confession  of   the  Nicene  Creed,   as  the  authorized  symbol  of 


£3  IMPKESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Christendom.  These  impressions,  forced  upon  me  within  these 
walls,  and  growing  on  me  every  day  that  I  spent  in  England,  re- 
turned with  ten-fold  power  after  I  had  seen  the  Continent,  and 
again  beheld  English  Churches  and  colleges,  and  felt  their  essen- 
tial antagonism  to  what  is  Italian  and  Tridentine,  and  their 
almost  physical  tendency  towards  the  production  of  such  a 
Church,  in  their  ultimate  result,  as  the  Anglican  Communion  is 
at  this  day,  and  is  likely  to  be  in  future.  Let  us  depend  upon  it, 
and  act  upon  it,  as  a  fact  in  the  providence  and  design  of  God, 
that  the  Church  of  England,  from  the  first  day  she  was  planted 
until  now,  has  been,  as  it  were,  "  the  Church  in  the  wilderness ;" 
retaining  always  a  primitive  and  individual  element,  and  preparing 
for  eventual  manifestation  in  the  pure  glory  of  the  Bride,  the 
great  adversary  of  the  harlot,  with  whose  painted  front  and 
virago  fury  she  now  patiently  contends. 

Although  the  modern  parts  of  the  College  are  conspicuous 
from  the  gardens,  I  found  in  them  a  fascination  which  I  can 
hardly  account  for  or  describe.  The  ancient  city  walls,  with 
their  bastions  and  defences,  are  still  preserved  as  the  boundaries 
of  the  premises,  and  possibly  it  is  to  them,  with  their  embower- 
ing verdure  and  isolating  effect,  that  one  owes  a  feeling  of 
enchanting  seclusion  and  quietude.  Here  my  trans- Atlantic 
eyes  first  beheld  the  loop-holes  and  embrasures  of  mediaeval  for- 
tification ;  first  grasped  the  idea  of  intramural  siege,  and  bow- 
and-arrow  fight !  It  struck  me  overwhelmingly  with  a  sense  of 
loss  and  mental  injury,  that  I  should  have  known  only  faintly, 
and  from  books,  what  thus  the  Oxford  student  receives  in  passive 
impressions  of  reality — the  ennobling  idea  of  our  connections 
with  the  past,  and  its  paternal  relations  to  us.  To  see  every  day 
the  walls  on  which  one's  forefathers,  ages  ago,  patrolled  in  ar- 
mor, or  from  which  they  aimed  the  cross-bow;  to  walk  and 
study  and  repose  habitually  under  their  shadow ;  to  have  always, 
in  sport  and  in  toil,  in  sorrow  and  in  joy,  such  monuments  of 
time  and  history  about  one :  how  ought  it  not  to  refine  and  ma- 
ture the  character  ;  and  make  a  man  feel  his  place  between  two 
eternities  ;  and  inspire  him  to  live  well  the  short  and  evil  day  in 
which,  if  ever,  what  he  does  for  futurity  must  be  done  quickly, 
and  with  might  ! 

But  now,  somehow  or  other,  Ave  emerged  into  "  The  Slipe," 
.where  one  gets  a  fine  external  view  of  old  wall,  chapel  and 
tower.  But  I  was  impatient  to  see  Magdalen  College,  and  Addi- 
son's Walk,,  and  thither  we  bent  our  way.     Passing  under  its  new 


MAGDALEN   COLLEGE.  59 

and  beautiful  gateway,  I  stood  before  that  effective  grouping  of 
architectural  detail  which  makes  up  the  western  front.  Here 
are  tower,  turret  and  portal,  chapel,  lodge,  and  non-descript 
doorway ;  here  are  great  window,  and  oriel,  and  all  sorts  of  win- 
dows besides  ;  and  trees  and  vines  lending  grace  to  all ;  and  here 
is  that  queer  little  hanging  pulpit,  for  out-door  preaching,  which, 
with  all  the  rest,  always  made  Magdalen,  to  my  boyish  taste,  the 
very  Oxford  of  Oxford.  And  I  am  not  sure  that  this  notion 
was  a  wrong  one ;  for  now  that  my  ideal  has  received  the  cor- 
rections of  experiment,  what  college  shall  I  prefer  to  Magdalen  ? 
Perfect  and  entire  is  Wadham,  where,  in  the  warden's  lodge,  I 
first  broke  academic  bread;  lordly  is  Christ  Church,  with  its 
walks  and  its  quadrangles ;  lovely  is  Merton,  as  it  were  the  sister 
of  Christ  Church,  and  gracefully  dependent ;  New  College  is 
majestic ;  All  Souls  worthy  of  princes :  but  Magdalen  alone  is 
all  that  is  the  charm  of  others,  compendious  in  itself;  yielding 
only  a  little  to  each  rival  in  particulars,  but  in  the  whole  excel- 
ling them  all. 

In  Addison's  walk  I  gave  myself  up  to  delightful  recollections 
of  the  Spectator,  and  marvelled  not  that  the  thorough-bred 
Englishman  of  that  bewitching  collection,  was  the  product,  in 
part,  of  such  a  spot  as  this!  Here  that  great  refiner  of  our 
language  breathed  the  sentiment  of  his  country,  and  nourished 
the  spirit  that  knew  how  to  appreciate  her,  and  how  to  transfuse 
the  love  of  her  into  others.  I  defy  the  most  stupid  visitor  to  feel 
nothing  of  enthusiasm  here!  I  made  the  circuit  of  the  meadow, 
surveyed  the  bridge  over  the  Cherwell,  took  a  view  of  Merton- 
fields  and  Christ  Church  meadows;  and,  after  meeting  with  the 
late  Vice-President,  Dr.  Bloxam,  and  encountering  in  him  a 
cordiality  of  reception  which  I  can  never  forget,  concluded  by 
attending  prayers  in  the  chapel.  I  was  placed  in  a  stall,  and 
had  as  favorable  a  position,  for  sight  and  sound,  as  I  could  have 
desired.  The  service  was  sung  throughout — although,  as  it  was 
now  vacation,  comparatively  low  were  in  attendance  besides  the 
singers  themselves.  I  observed  that  here,  as  in  other  college- 
chapels,  the  chapel  itself  is  the  choir  of  a  cruciform  Church,  the 
ante-chapel  is  the  transept,  and  the  nave  is  wanting.  Add  the 
nave,  that  is,  and  you  have  a  cathedral,  or  minster,  complete. 
In  the  ante-chapel  of  Magdalen,  there  are  always  persons  de- 
voutly following  the  service  ;  and  although  they  can  see  nothing, 
they  hear  it  with  very  sweet  effect,  the  chaunt  being  softened  by 
their  separation  from  the  singers,  while  it  is  articulate  and  alto- 
gether devotional. 


60  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

Magdalen  became  my  home  in  Oxford,  for  there  I  more  fre- 
quently walked,  and  worshipped,  and  visited  than  elsewhere — 
and  there,  for  a  time,  I  was  lodged ;  while  in  its  grounds  I  be- 
came a  frequent  and  familiar  guest ;  taking,  in  grateful  confidence, 
the  repeated  invitations  which  I  received  from  Dr.  Bloxam  and 
other  members  of  the  College,  although  obliged  to  decline  far 
more  of  their  kindness  than  I  could  possibly  accept.  During 
this  first  visit  I  dined  in  the  Hall,  meeting  a  number  of  eminent 
members  of  the  University,  and  greatly  enjoying  their  conversa- 
tion. This  superb  Hall  is  lined  with  portraits  of  the  distin- 
guished sons  of  Magdalen.  As  I  sat  at  meat,  Addison's  portrait 
was  just  before  me,  and  at  the  end  of  the  Hall  was  the  portrait 
of  one  whom  I  am  accustomed  to  reverence  even  more,  as  the 
pattern  of  the  true  Anglican  pastor,  the  pure  and  holy  Ham- 
mond. All  around  hung  the  venerable  pictures  of  great  and 
historical  personages,  who  have  illustrated  their  college  in  becom- 
ing illustrious  themselves.  Among  such  worthies,  none  can  for- 
get Bishop  Home,  who,  although  he  died  in  1792,  was  the 
immediate  predecessor  in  the  presidency  of  Dr.  Routh,  the 
present  incumbent,  now  very  nearly  a  hundred  years  of  age. 
This  venerable  and  extraordinary  man  is,  indeed,  as  was  often 
said  to  me — "the  greatest  wonder  of  Oxford." 

But  how  many  are  the  sources  of  delight  in  this  august  Uni- 
versity !  Even  the  meanest  are  not  unworthy  of  note.  At  din- 
ner, in  the  Hall,  for  example,  I  remarked,  that  the  queer  old 
mug  from  which  I  was  drinking,  was  the  gift  to  the  College  of 
"  Robert  Greville,  second  son  of  Lord  Brooke ;"  and  when  we 
adjourned  to  the  common-room,  for  fruit  and  conversation,  the 
traditions  of  the  spot,  which  were  recounted,  were  all  of  historical 
interest.  In  this  very  room,  that  sturdy  champion  of  his  College, 
Bishop  Hough,  by  boldly  resisting  the  Commissioners  of  the 
Popish  James,  with  their  three  troops  of  horse  at  the  door,  paved 
the  way  for  the  Revolution  of  1688  ;  and  yet  no  College  in  Ox- 
ford was  so  much  distinguished  for  its  subsequent  loyalty  to  the 
house  of  Stuart  as  Magdalen — following,  in  this,  the  example  of 
Bishop  Ken  and  the  non-jurors,  who  liked  the  usurpation  of  Wil- 
liam quite  as  little  as  the  oppression  of  James.  A  Jacobite 
goblet  was  put  into  my  hand,  bearing  the  inscription  Jus  suum 
cuique,  which  admirably  apologizes  for  the  position  of  the  Col- 
lege, in  both  these  historical  issues ;  while,  on  the  other  side,  is 
the  legend,  to  which  I  gave  emphatic  utterance,  as  I  drank— 
Vivat  Magdalena  !  After  an  hour  in  the  common-room,  we  re- 
turned  to  the  Hall,  where  the  choristers  were  rehearsing  the 


ACADEMIC   CEREMONY.  61 

anthem  for  the  next  service,  and  where  I  heard  not  a  little  sweet 
singing  during  the  evening.  The  fire  was  brightly  blazing  in  its 
chimneys ;  and  the  light  and  shade  of  the  vast  apartment,  with 
its  pictures  reflecting  the  playful  glare  from  painted  armor,  or 
robes  of  lawn,  and  academic  scarlet,  to  say  nothing  of  the  visages 
of  ancient  worthies  clad  in  such  array,  very  much  heightened  the 
effect  of  the  scene. 

Before  returning  to  London,  besides  making  a  general  survey 
of  the  city,  I  became  somewhat  more  particularly  acquainted 
with  Christ  Church,  its  hall,  and  common-room :  and  with  its 
chapel,  which  is  the  cathedral.  In  Oriel  College,  also,  I  passed 
some  pleasant  moments,  and  drank  of  the  College  beer,  from  an 
old  traditional  cup  of  the  time  of  Edward  Second.  I  also  wor- 
shipped at  St.  Mary's,  and  did  the  same  at  St.  Thomas's,  a  pic- 
turesque and  venerable  fabric  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  near 
the  site  of  Oseney  Abbey.  Here  the  late  restorations  were  very 
fine ;  and,  although  it  is  a  parochial  Church  only,  the  service 
was  sung.  I  observed  a  somewhat  excessive  external  devotion 
on  the  part  of  some  of  the  worshippers,  which  struck  me  unfa- 
vorably ;  but,  perhaps,  in  times  of  less  dubious  allegiance  to  the 
Church,  I  should  not  have  noticed  it  as  peculiarly  pharisaical. 
I  paid  a  visit  to  the  Bodleian  and  the  Picture  Gallery,  and  inspected 
the  architecture  of  "  the  Schools ;"  and,  finally,  saw  some  cere- 
monies in  the  Convocation  House,  which  were  very  well  worth 
seeing,  as  illustrating  the  academic  system  of  Oxford.  Several 
masters-of-arts  were  made,  the  Vice-Chancellor,  Dr.  Plumptre, 
presiding,  in  his  scarlet  robes ;  but  all  was  done  with  an  entire 
absence  of  pomp,  and  in  presence  of  very  few  spectators.  I  was 
the  more  surprised,  as  this  was  the  first  day  of  Easter-term ;  and, 
from  the  general  peal  from  towers  and  steeples,  one  might  have 
supposed  it  a  great  day.  Even  the  ceremony  of  admitting  the 
new  proctors,  and  the  Latin  speech  of  one  of  them  going  out, 
seemed  hardly  to  have  any  interest  for  the  academics,  or  others. 
The  Heads  of  Houses  were  assisting,  and  looked  well ;  and, 
when  all  was  over,  there  was  a  procession,  the  Vice-Chancellor 
going  in  state,  solemnly  preceded  by  the  bedels,  with  their  maces — 
profanely  called  pokers  by  the  undergraduates.  There  was,  how- 
ever, no  strut,  but  rather  the  contrary.  You  saw.  at  a  glance, 
that  all  this  was  the  mechanical  routine  of  the  University,  done 
as  business ;  and  so  regarded  by  every  body  concerned.  It  is 
only  when  men  are  acting  that  they  become  sublimely  ridiculous. 

This  remark  applies  to  the  May-morning  celebration,  on  top 
of  the  Tower  of  Magdalen.    To  read  of  it,  one  would  think  it  must 


62  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

be  a  romantic,  or  enthusiastic,  piece  of  absurdity :  but  done,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  in  continuity,  year  after  year,  from 
ancient  times,  it  has,  on  the  spot,  a  very  different  effect.  The 
custom  dates  from  1501,  the  first  year  of  the  16th  century, 
when,  in  gratitude  for  a  royal  benefaction  from  Henry  VII.,  a 
Hymn  to  the  Holy  Trinity,  with  the  Collect  of  Trinity  Sunday, 
and  other  solemnities,  were  instituted  as  a  commemoration,  to  be 
celebrated  on  the  first  day  of  May.  The  produce  of  two  acres 
of  land,  part  of  the  royal  gift,  was  at  the  same  time  to  be  dis- 
tributed between  the  President  and  fellows.  It  now  goes  to  pay 
for  an  entertainment  supplied  to  the  choristers,  in  the  College- 
hall,  at  which  a  silver  grace-cup  is  passed  around  with  great 
formality.  The  boys  have  a  complete  holiday,  moreover,  and 
from  sunrise  to  sunset  are  set  free  from  College-bounds ;  but  it 
must  be  understood  that  the  boys  here  spoken  of  are  those  of  the 
school  and  choir — not  the  undergraduates,  of  whom  there  are 
precious  few  at  Magdalen — which  is  not  an  educational  establish- 
ment, but  a  society  of  educated  men,  devoted  to  academic  pur- 
suits. But  I  suppose  I  need  not  explain  the  difference  between 
such  Colleges  and  our  own,  now  so  generally  understood.  To 
remedy  what  is  considered  by  the  progress-men  a  crying  evil, 
and  to  turn  the  splendid  revenues  of  Magdalen  to  the  largest  ben- 
efit of  the  largest  number,  is  one  of  the  professed  purposes  of  the 
late  Royal  Commission :  but,  unfortunately,  no  confidence  can  be 
placed  in  its  professions.  Were  the  thing  in  the  hands  of  true 
Churchmen,  and  relieved  from  the  tinkering  of  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  competent  and  moderate  Univer- 
sity reform  might  vastly  augment  the  resources  of  the  Anglican 
Communion,  and  furnish  a  noble  and  safe  expansion  to  her  mis- 
sionary and  colonization  enterprises.  The  Lord  hasten  such  a 
genuine  improvement,  and  deliver  the  University  from  the 
rash  and  presumptuous  hands  of  political  capitalists  and  adven- 
turers ! 

I  was  premonished  by  one  of  the  Dons,  that  there  would  be 
very  little  danger  of  over-sleeping  on  a  May-morning  in  Oxford, 
for  that  an  old  remnant  of  Druidical  times  still  flourishes  unre- 
strained among  the  lads  of  the  town.  This  is  nothing  less  than 
the  blowing  of  all  sorts  of  dissonant  horns,  about  the  streets,  in 
honor  of  the  British  Flora,  from  the  earliest  peep  of  May-day ; 
as  if  to  remind  every  body  of  the  shame  of  sleeping  when  nature 
is  displaying  her  fairest  and  most  fragrant  charms.  Awakened, 
then,  by  the  promised  croaking,  up  I  rose,  and  repaired  to  the 
College,  towards  which  the  whole  tide  of  early-risers  was  setting. 


MAY-MORXIXG.  63 

Here,  those  who  are  not  admitted  to  the  Tower,  station  them- 
selves in  the  street  below,  or  line  the  bridge  of  the  Cherwell, 
awaiting  the  aerial  music.  As  I  slowly  wound  my  way  to  the 
top  of  the  tower,  I  caught  beautiful  views  through  its  loop-holes, 
and  breathed  occasional  puffs  of  delicious  air.  On  the  summit 
were  gathered  almost  as  many  gownsmen,  and  others,  as  half  the 
place  would  hold :  the  other  half  was  railed  off  for  the  singers — 
men  and  boys,  in  their  surplices  and  caps,  with  sheets  of  music 
in  their  hands.  The  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  towards 
Forest-hill  and  Cuddesdon,  or  round  by  Nuneham  and  Stanton 
Harcourt,  to  Woodstock,  was  exceedingly  lovely — and,  of 
course,  the  more  so,  for  the  inspiration  of  the  hour.  As  the 
clocks  of  Oxford  chimed  the  hour  of  five,  every  head  was 
reverently  uncovered — and,  while  the  morning  sun  made  all  the 
landscape  glitter,  forth  broke  the  sweet  music  of  the  old  Latin 
hymn : — 

"Te  Deum  patrem  colimus, 
Te  laudibus  proscquimur  : 
Qui  corpus  cibo  rencis, 
Coelesti  mentem  gratia." 

Alas!  it  was  too  soon  over;  for  while  it  lasted,  looking  up 
into  the  blue  heavens,  one  could  almost  imagine  himself  amid 
the  clouds,  and  surrounded  by  the  melodies  of  the  heavenly 
host.  As  soon  as  it  was  done,  the  bells  beneath  us  began  their 
chorus,  and  the  tower  fairly  rocked  and  reeled.  After  lingering 
for  a  time,  to  survey  the  effects  of  a  bright  morning  on  the 
domes  and  spires  of  the  University,  and  on  the  aged  trees  of 
Christ-Church  meadows  and  the  windings  of  the  river,  I  de- 
scended to  the  walks,  and  there  passed  an  hour,  sauntering  about, 
as  it  were,  in  the  very  foot-prints  of  Addison  and  liishop  Home. 
The  bells  discoursed  their  music  for  a  full  hour ;  the  rooks  chat- 
tered, and  made  holiday  in  the  tree-tops ;  the  sweet-briar  and 
rose  perfumed  the  cloisters  ;  the  deer  bounded  across  the  College 
park  ;  and  wherever  I  went,  or  wherever  my  eye  rested,  I  saw 
nothing  to  remind  me  that  this  world  is  a  work-day  and  wretched 
place,  and  that  England  is  full  of  misery  and  sin.  For  a  time, 
rhyme  seemed  reason,  and  fancy  fact.  In  the  enchantment  of 
that  delightful  May-morning,  one  might  be  forgiven  for  loving 
life  and  being  fain  to  see  many  such  good  days. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


The  Crystal  Palace — Opening,  etc. 

Having  frankly  confessed  my  prejudices  against  the  Great 
Exhibition,  I  must  now  as  frankly  own  that  I  am  ashamed  of  them. 
The  whole  thing  was  indeed  strongly  marked  by  the  spirit  of 
the  age,  and  was,  therefore,  such  as  no  one  who  sees  and 
understands  the  faults  of  our  own  times  can  enthusiastically  ad- 
mire. Yet,  little  by  little,  I  saw  so  much  in  it  which  illustrates 
the  better  elements  of  that  spirit,  and  which  is  capable  of  being 
directed  to  noble  results  in  behalf  of  the  whole  family  of  man, 
that,  to  some  degree,  I  rejoice  in  the  complete  success  of  that 
splendid  experiment.  I  was  nicely  punished  for  my  folly  at  the 
outset,  in  losing  the  pageant  of  the  opening,  of  which  I  took  no 
pains  to  be  a  spectator,  until  it  was  quite  too  late  to  obtain  ad- 
mittance. If  I  lost  any  thing,  however,  I  suffered  in  good  com- 
pany. I  am  astonished,  at  this  time,  to  remember  the  indiffer- 
ence of  many  Englishmen,  in  different  ranks  of  society,  to  the 
entire  project,  until  its  success  was  demonstrated.  From  The 
Times,  which  was  a  great  grumbler  at  first,  and  from  old  Black- 
wood, which  railed  at  the  Temple  of  Folly,  down  to  the  shop- 
keepers in  Regent-street,  there  was  a  wide-spread  feeling  of  con- 
tempt for  Prince  Albert's  hobby,  as  likely  to  cost  more  than  it 
would  come  to:  while  sincere  apprehensions  were  entertained 
that  something  revolutionary  and  bloody  might  be  the  result  of 
the  collection  of  vast  bodies  of  men,  with  a  large  proportion  of 
foreign  republicans  among  them,  into  the  bosom  of  the  Metropolis. 
How  idle  all  this  seems  now !  At  the  time,  I  am  sure,  very  few 
were  satisfied  that  it  was  altogether  idle ;  and  I  fancy  the  Queen 
and  Prince  Albert  themselves  wished  the  thing  well  over,  for  some 
time  before  it  was  fairly  inaugurated. 


THE  queen's  progress.  65 

I  went  into  Oxfordshire  without  making  any  plans  to  see  the 
show,  and  remained  over  the  morning  of  the  first  of  May,  to  hear 
the  hymn  on  the  Tower  of  Magdalen.  This  was  the  day  of  the  open- 
ing of  the  Palace,  and  accordingly  I  immediately  hastened  to  Lon- 
don, to  see  how  it  would  end.  Riot  and  murder  were  the  very  least 
of  evil  results  predicted  by  some,  and  our  American  press  had  an- 
ticipated nothing  less  than  general  pillage  and  insurrection.  On 
arriving  in  London,  I  found  that  if  I  had  only  secured  my  ticket 
beforehand,  I  might  have  been  at  the  show,  as  well  as  at  the 
Oxford  solemnity;  for  it  was  yet  early  in  the  day.  Immense 
masses  of  men  were  pouring  into  Hyde  Park,  as  I  drove  down 
the  Edgeware  road,  and  the  crowd  and  crush  of  vehicles  was  not 
less  surprising.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  made  my  way 
through  Piccadilly,  especially  as  my  cab  emerged  into  the  vicinity, 
of  Hyde-Park-corner.  The  police  were  everywhere  on  duty,  but 
there  was  no  mob,  properly  speaking,  to  require  their  interference. 
Thousands  of  the  humbler  classes,  men,  women  and  children,  in 
their  best  clothes,  were  endeavouring  to  enjoy  the  holiday,  and 
get  a  sight  of  the  Queen.  That  was  all,  at  this  hour — and  so  it 
continued  through  the  day.  Towards  noon,  the  crowd  in  the 
Park  grew  oppressive,  and  the  slightest  accident  might  have  bred 
a  confusion,  in  which  life  would  have  been  sacrificed;  but  there 
was  absolutely  nothing  but  good-natured  pushing  and  thrusting, 
and  the  occasional  squall  of  an  infant,  whose  mother  was  more 
engaged  to'  save  her  tawdry  finery,  than  to  secure  the  safety  of 
her  child. 

Finding  myself  one  of  the  people,  I  resolved  to  enjoy  a  nobody's 
share  of  the  sight-seeing.  Some  English  friends  whom  I  found 
in  the  same  predicament,  and  who  assured  me  I  had  lost  nothing 
worth  a  guinea  to  see,  volunteered  to  accompany  me  into  the 
Park,  where  they  thought  it  not  unlikely  the  most  exciting  scenes 
of  the  day  would  come  off.  So  then,  we  elbowed  and  pushed 
our  progress  into  the  Park,  and  were  elbowed  and  pushed  in  re- 
turn quite  as  much  as  we  cared  to  be.  At  last,  it  became  im- 
possible to  fight  it  out  three  abreast,  and  we  agreed  to  "  divide 
and  conquer."  The  last  I  saw  of  my  friends,  one  was  here  and 
the  other  there,  amid  a  crowd  of  hats  and  faces  swaying  about, 
with  exclamations  and  entreaties  in  behalf  of  coats  and 
shins,  and  toes,  and  umbrellas.  We  looked  laughing  adieus,  and 
saw  each  other  no  more.  At  length  I  found  myself  in  the  line  of 
the  Queen's  procession,  and  hired  a  convenient  standing-place  to 
see  her  progress  to  the  Palace.    On  she  came  at  last,  preceded  by 


66  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

those  superb  horse-guards,  who  clashed  magnificently  through  the 
crowd,  and  were  themselves  the  finest  military  spectacle  I  had 
ever  beheld.  Several  of  the  Court  carriages  followed,  one  con- 
taining the  Crown-Prince  of  Prussia;  and  then  came  the  Queen's, 
distinguished  by  many  horses,  coachmen,  and  footmen ;  the  coach 
itself  glittering  with  gold;  the  horses  splendidly  caparisoned; 
and  the  servants  in  showy  liveries,  with  powdered  hair,  cocked- 
hats,  and  immense  nosegays  thrust  into  their  bosoms.  The  cock- 
neys, however,  had  expected  to  see  the  coronation  coach,  and 
were  accordingly  much  disappointed  with  this  modicum  of  show. 
Then  followed  more  horse-guards,  kicking  up  the  gravel  into  the 
faces  of  the  plebeians,  and  sinking,  with  their  haunches  to  the 
earth,  as  their  riders  spurred  them  into  proud  prancings  and 
curvettings,  as  if  to  intimate  that  the  very  beasts  knew  they  were 
attending  the  Sovereign  of  many  Empires  to  a  festival  of  all  na- 
tions. Whew!  how  they  dashed  along!  and  soon  a  discharge  of 
artillery  announced  her  arrival  at  the  Palace;  nor  was  it  long 
before  another  discharge  of  the  guns  proclaimed  the  ceremony 
concluded,  and  the  Great  Exhibition  opened.  Everybody  looked 
happy  and  contented ;  and  everybody,  with  wife  and  children  in 
the  bargain,  appeared  to  be  on  the  spot. 

As  the  royal  carriage  passed,  I  observed  the  Queen  to  be  ap- 
parently uneasy,  and  apprehensive.  The  glass  was  up,  and  she 
was  giving  herself  that  constant  motion  which  was  Louis  Philippe's 
art  of  safety  on  like  occasions.  Without  any  distrust  "of  her  peo- 
ple, she  may  have  remembered  the  attempt  of  the  madman, 
Oxford,  and  she  knew  that  any  similar  desperado  must  have  a  bet- 
ter chance  of  success  on  a  day  like  this.  I  saw  the  little  princes, 
and  the  royal  head,  therefore,  to  great  disadvantage;  but  fortune 
favored  me  with  a  fuller  satisfaction  on  their  return.  While 
everybody  was  pressing  towards  the  Crystal  Palace,  I  now  turned 
against  the  tide,  and  gradually  extricating  myself  from  the  Park, 
passed  down  Constitution  Hill,  and  finally  arrived  at  Buckingham 
Palace  just  in  time  to  get  a  full  view.  The  crowd  here  was  very 
light,  and  I  saw  everything  to  great  advantage.  The  Queen  was 
evidently  in  high  spirits,  the  glass  down,  and  she  bowing  most 
maternally.  I  was  within  a  few  feet  of  her,  and  lifted  my  hat  in 
homage  to  the  broad,  good-humoured  smile  with  which  she 
seemed  to  regard  her  enthusiastic  subjects.  The  grand-daughter 
of  George  the  Third  looks  exceedingly  like  her  venerable  ancestor, 
and  a  glance  suggested  to  me  what  must  have  been  his  appear 
ance  in  his  younger  days.     Her  features  are  by  no  means  un- 


the  queen's  return.  67 

feminine,  though  far  from  delicate;  she  was  a  little  flushed,  and 
hence  less  fair  than  she  is  painted ;  but  her  exhilaration  at  the 
happy  conclusion  of  her  morning,  gave  an  attractiveness  to  her 
expression  which  she  lacked  when  I  afterwards  saw  her,  on  more 
splendid  occasions,  languid  with  the  routine  of  a  drawing-room 
at  St.  James's,  and  sick  enough,  I  dare  say,  of  its  heartlessness 
and  formality.  After  the  Queen  passed  into  her  residence,  I 
supposed  the  pageant  ended,  but  shortly  after  there  arose  a  shout, 
which  convinced  me  I  was  mistaken.  1  turned,  and  saw  her  ex- 
hibiting herself  to  the  people  in  the  balcony  of  the  palace,  in  the 
centre  of  a  very  splendid  group,  and  witli  the  little  Prince  of 
Wales,  and  the  Princess  Royal,  at  her  side.  The  Princess  Alice, 
the  Crown  Prince  of  Prussia,  and  the  Duchess  of  Sutherland, 
were  in  the  splendid  circle,  but  the  Prince  Consort  I  did  not 
discover.  The  shouts  of  the  people  were  not  so  vociferous  as  I 
should  have  anticipated;  and  the  royal  party  soon  withdrew.  I 
afterwards  learned  that  this  was  a  novel  proceeding,  and  was  meant 
by  her  Majesty  as  an  act  of  most  gracious  and  particular  con- 
descension. I  trust  my  republican  interest  in  the  spectacle  was 
none  the  worse,  however,  for  being  wholly  unsuspicious  of  the 
gratitude  with  which  it  should  have  been  mingled.  I  looked  not 
without  reverence,  at  the  Sovereign  Lady,  and  not  without  solemn 
thoughts  of  futurity  at  her  lonely  little  family  of  children.  But 
the  influence  of  my  country  was  so  far  upon  me,  that  I  never 
conceived  at  the  time,  that  her  .Majesty  was  doing  more  than 
might  have  been  expected  of  her,  in  honour  of  her  loyal  and  most 
decorous  people. 

To  Americans  in  London  the  Crystal  Palace  soon  became  a 
sore  subject.  We  were  the  laughing-stock  of  nations;  and  I  con- 
fess, when  I  first  visited  the  vast  desert  at  the  American  end  of 
the  show,  in  which  many  of  the  articles  exhibited  were  even 
worse  than  the  lack  of  others  which  ought  to  have  been  there,  I 
felt  myself  disposed,  for  a  minute,  to  blush  for  my  country.  It 
would  have  been  the  very  poverty  of  patriotism  to  plead  that  a 
few  items  of  our  contribution  were  of  very  great  merit ;  and  self- 
respect  would  not  permit  me  to  multiply  apologies,  or  even  ex- 
planations. What  was  really  good  spoke  for  itself.  What  was 
bad,  or  indifferent,  was  simply  inexcusable.  The  fact  is,  our 
progress  in  the  arts  of  civilization  was  not  at  all  represented ;  and 
after  observing  the  things  which  attracted  attention,  from  other 
countries,  I  felt  sorry  that  nobody  had  thought  of  making  similar 
exhibitions  for  us.     It  really  pained  me  to  reflect,  that  I  had 


DQ  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

seen  much  more  attractive  exhibitions  in  our  provincial  towns ; 
and  I  was  quite  sure  that  one  day's  work,  in  each  of  our  great 
cities,  might  have  sufficed  to  collect  a  far  better  show  of  industrial 
produce  out  of  the  ordinary  market.  Fortunately,  the  yacht 
"America"  came  in  at  the  last  moment  to  "  pluck  up  our  drown- 
ing honour  by  the  locks;"  and  if  we  would  but  stop  bragging 
about  it,  that  would  be  enough,  until  some  future  occasion  may 
afford  us  an  opportunity  of  showing  what  American  mechanics 
and  manufacturers  are  able  to  achieve  in  their  various  depart- 
ments of  skill  and  ingenuity. 

I  was  pained  to  observe  the  feeling  engendered  by  the  Exhibi- 
tion between  England  and  America,  and  by  the  highly-irritated 
recriminations  of  ill-bred  representatives  of  both  countries,  on 
the  spot.  On  the  other  hand,  I  was  sometimes  amused  by  the 
ludicrous  attempts  of  some  well-meaning  Englishman  to  be  com- 
plimentary. He  would  choke  out  something  about  the  "  Greek 
Slave,"  and  then  pass  rapidly  to  speak  of  his  delight  in  meeting 
with  a  model  of  Niagara  Falls :  an  execrable  thing,  which  only 
served  still  further  to  confuse  the  unusually  mudded  ideas  of  that 
prodigy  of  Nature,  entertained  by  the  English  generally.  As  it 
was  simply  an  immense  map  of  the  Niagara,  it  of  course  repre- 
sented the  Falls  on  such  a  scale  as  entirely  deprived  them  of  sub- 
limity and  beauty :  and  so,  when  the  speaker  would  enlarge  upon 
the  magnificence  of  this  feature  of  our  country,  I  usually  took 
some  satisfaction  in  confessing  that  the  better  half  of  the  Falls  is, 
after  all,  on  the  British  side,  and  that  I  was  sorry  he  could  find 
nothing  to  praise  that  was  entirely  ours.  The  only  instance  in 
which  I  encountered  rudeness  upon  this  subject,  was  an  absurd 
one,  in  a  railway  carriage :  when  a  Paisley  manufacturer,  a  little 
the  worse  for  whiskey,  and  very  rich  in  his  brogue,  after  some 
impudent  remarks,  which  led  me  to  decline  conversation,  stuck 
his  face  into  mine,  with  the  startling  announcement — "ye  can't 
maF  shawls  in  your  country  /" 

On  my  first  visit  to  the  Exhibition,  I  must  own  that  my  pre- 
judices were  utterly  dispelled.  The  meagre  effect  of  the  exterior 
was  forgotten  in  the  enchantment  of  the  view  within.  It  was 
a  high-priced  day,  when  rank  and  fashion  had  the  scene  to  itself. 
The  pxace  where  the  interest  of  the  whole  was  concentrated  was 
that  beneath  the  transept,  commanding,  as  it  did,  the  entire 
view ;  and  where  the  great  trees,  preserved  within  the  building, 
furnished  a  comparative  measure  of  the  whole.  The  crystal  roof 
showered  a  soft  day-light  over  the  immense  interior;  the  trees 


THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE.  69 

and  curious  plants  gave  it  a  cheerful  and  varied  beauty ;  the  eye 
bewildered  itself  in  a  maze  of  striking  objects  of  luxury  and  taste; 
musical  instruments,  constantly  playing,  bewitched  the  ear,  their 
tones  blending,  from  various  distances  and  directions,  in  a  kind 
of  harmonious  discord ;  fountains  were  gurgling  and  scattering 
their  spray,  like  diamonds  and  pearls ;  and,  amid  all,  moved  the 
high-born  beauty,  and  the  rank  and  pride  of  England,  mixed  with 
auxiliar  representatives  of  foreign  states,  but  not  -unconscious  of 
their  own  superiority,  even  while  they  seemed  to  forget  that  they 
were  insular,  in  their  easy  transition  through  the  pavilion,  from 
England  to  France,  and  from  France  to  Austria,  and  from 
Austria  to  India  and  China.  I  thought  of  "  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world  and  the  glory  of  them :"  did  the  vision  which  the 
Tempter  disclosed  to  the  Man  of  Sorrows  glitter  more  ravishing- 
ly  than  this? 

But  others  have  written  so  well  on  this  magnificent  spectacle, 
that  I  must  not  enlarge  upon  my  own  impressions.  It  grew 
upon  me,  to  the  last.  It  was  an  encyclopaedia,  which  I  am  glad 
to  have  consulted.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  great  piece  of  luck  to  a 
traveller.  How  much  of  Europe  it  showed  him  in  a  day  :  how 
many  leagues  of  travel  it  would  have  cost  to  have  gained  the  in- 
formation, with  respect  to  divers  countries,  which  here  unfolded 
itself  beneath  one  mighty  roof!  I  am  convinced,  moreover,  that 
its  influence,  on  the  whole,  was  good.  It  was  opened  and  dedi- 
cated by  prayer,  and  the  blessing  of  the  Primate ;  it  was  presided 
over  by  the  religious  spirit  of  the  British  Empire ;  it  illustrated 
the  pacific  and  domestic  influences  of  a  female  reign ;  it  furnished 
a  striking  proof  of  the  stability  and  self-reliance  of  the  Govern- 
ment, as  well  as  of  the  tranquil  prosperity  of  the  state;  it  united 
many  nations  in  a  common  and  friendly  work ;  it  furnished  a 
touching  but  sublime  commentary  upon  the  lot  of  man,  to  cat 
bread  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  and  it  redeemed  itself  from  the 
spirit  of  that  other  Babel,  upon  the  plains  of  Shinar,  by  bearing, 
inscribed  upon  its  catalogue,  the  text — "  The  earth  is  the  Lord's, 
nnd  all  that  therein  is :  the  compass  of  the  world,  and  they  that 
dwell  therein." 

On  one  of  the  days  which  admitted  "  the  people,"  I  took  my 
stand  in  a  corner  of  the  quiet  gallery,  over  the  transept,  and 
looked  down  on  the  swarming  hive  with  a  meditative  pleasure. 
England  was  there,  city  and  country,  the  boor  and  the  shop- 
keeper, and  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  The  unspeakable 
wealth  of  nations  stood  secure,  and  glittered,   untouched,  among 


70  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

them  all.  All  men  are  brothers,  indeed ;  and  tears  came  to  my 
eyes  as  I  surveyed  those  sons  of  toil  gazing  for  a  moment  upon 
luxury,  and  trying  to  extract  a  day's  satisfaction  in  beholding 
the  pomps  and  vanities  which  Providence  helps  them,  so  sternly, 
to  renounce.  Each  soul — -worth  infinitely  more  than  all ;  and 
the  purchase  of  the  blood  that  is  beyond  all  price  !  Oh  God,  how 
solemn  the  theatre,  in  which  such  a  scene  was  presented  to  my 
eye ;  and  what  thoughts  it  gave  me  of  glory  and  of  vanity, 
of  human  joys  and  sorows ;  of  the  speedy  day  when  all  that 
multitude  shall  have  passed  from  a  world  as  transient  as 
the  show  which  then  amused  them ;  and  of  the  day  not  very 
distant,  when  they,  with  all  nations,  shall  stand  before  the  Son 
of  Man! 

It  is  a  good  thing  that  the  betters  counsel  prevailed,  and  that 
the  Crystal  Palace,  when  it  had  served  its  purpose,  was  taken 
utterly  away.  It  is  now  a  thing  of  history,  so  far  as  Hyde-Park 
is  concerned ;  and  the  Transept  Tree  will  long  be  its  best  memo- 
rial to  surviving  generations.  In  this  way  its  memory  will  have 
a  moral  value,  till  the  end  of  time.  A  bubble,  like  the  world, 
it  has  glittered  and  vanished.  An  epitome  of  nations  and  king 
doms,  and  manners  and  men,  it  has  served  its  purpose,  and  been 
removed  by  its  imperial  architects.  Who  can  doubt  that,  in  like 
manner,  when  their  noble  ends  are  accomplished,  the  heavens 
shall  be  folded  up  as  a  vesture ;  and  "the  great  globe  itself,  with 
all  which  it  inherits,"  shall  forever  pass  away,  according  to  His 
promise,  who  is  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords? 

It  would  have  been  pity  not  to  have  seen  poor  Jack-in-the- 
Green,  on  a  May-day,  in  London ;  and  yet  I  had  quite  forgotten 
the  sweep,  and  his  right  to  a  share  in  the  festival,  until  I  saw  the 
sight  itself,  as  I  chanced  to  be  passing  through  one  of  the  streets  of 
the  West-end.  A  chimney  of  green  things,  it  seemed  to  be  ;  walk- 
ing along,  and  nearly  or  quite  concealing  the  occupant,  who 
gave  it  motion,  while  a  crowd  of  boys  did  honour  to  the  show. 
The  game  seemed  to  consist,  in  pausing  before  certain  doors, 
and  soliciting  a  gratuity.  Certain  it  is,  that  no  one  can  grudge 
a  penny  to  such  an  applicant,  or  behold  the  one  day's  sport  of 
the  poor  climbing-boy,  without  wishing  he  may  succeed  in  trying 
to  make  the  most  of  it.  Lady  M.  W.  Montague  is  said  to  have 
invented  this  beneficial  anniversary  of  sweepdom,  and  the  moving 
obelisk  of  green  seemed  to  me  no  unmeet  memorial  of  her  be- 
nevolence. Better  this,  than  the  column  of  the  Place  Vendome, 
unless  it  be  better  to  be  remembered  for  levying  a  world-wide 


LIMITS   OF   LONDON.  7l 

tribute  of  blood  and  tears,  than  for  giving  one  new  object  of  hope 
and  joy  to  the  children  of  sorrow  ! 

During  the  residue  of  the  week  I  was  engaged  in  the  ordinary 
lionizing,  but  met  several  agreeable  persons  in  company,  dining 
one  day  at  the  Rectory  of  St.  George's  East,  and  another  day  at 
Claphain.  My  first  impressions  of  the  enormous  extent  of  Lon- 
don were  gained  in  passing  between  these  limits,  and  yet  as  vast 
a  suburb  lay  unexplored  beyond  the  former,  as  I  had  travelled 
through  to  reach  the  latter.  Clapham  is  called  four  miles  from 
the  metropolis,  but  one  reaches  it,  by  omnibus,  with  no  very 
clear  idea  of  having  left  London  at  all.  And  so,  in  every  direc- 
tion, London  seems  interminable,  and  villages  known  to  us  from 
books  as  highly  rural,  and  as  affording  delightful  retreats  from  the 
city,  are  found,  to  our  surprise,  to  be  incorporated  with  the  great 
Babel  itself,  and  that  by  no  means  as  its  extremities. 


CHAPTEE    X. 


St.  James — Wellington — St,  Paul's. 

I  had  been  invited  by  Dr.  Wesley,  Dean  of  the  Chapel  Royal 
of  St.  James's,  to  attend  service  there  on  Sunday  morning.  It 
was  the  Second  Sunday  after  Easter.  The  old  clock  above  the 
palace  gate- way  pointed  eight  o'clock  as  I  entered  the  colour- 
court,  and  saw  the  flag  of  the  regiment  on  duty,  drooping  about 
its  staff,  inscribed  with  the  -names  of  famous  victories.  All  the 
region  round  about  seemed  to  be  fast  bound  in  slumber.  It  was 
the  cool,  quiet  Sunday  morning  of  smoky  London,  to  which  only 
the  most  casual  glimmer  of  sunlight  gave  any  warm  announce- 
ment of  the  advancing  day.  How  still  it  seemed  !  A  solitary 
sentinel,  in  scarlet,  stood,  six  feet  high,  at  the  gate.  "  Service 
begun  yet?"  said  I ;  and  he  answered,  mechanically,  "yes,  the 
Duke  just  gone  in."  I  passed  on  ;  knocked  at  the  door  of  the 
chapel ;  mentioned  the  Dean's  name  as  my  warrant,  and  was  ad- 
mitted. The  beadle,  in  livery,  showed  me  to  a  seat,  and  after  my 
devotions,  I  was  able  to  look  around.  It  was  a  plain  place  of 
worship,  and  quite  small ;  just  large  enough  for  the  royal  house- 
hold, none  of  whom,  however,  were  now  present,  the  Court  being  at 
Buckingham  Palace.  The  book  in  my  seat  was  stamped  with  the 
royal  initial  of  William  Fourth,  and  marked  for  some  great  officer 
of  the  household.  There  was  one  seat  between  me  and  the 
pulpit,  the  seats  running  along  the  wall,  like  stalls,  and  not  as 
ordinary  pews.  The  altar  at  the  end  of  the  Church,  beyond  the 
pulpit,  was  the  conspicuous  object  of  course,  and  the  window  above 
it — which  one  might  hardly  take  for  an  altar- window  in  the  street- 
view — gave  the  chief  light  to  the  holy  place.  Was  this  the  same 
chapel  in  which  Evelyn  so  often  anxiously  marked  the  behaviour  of 
Charles  and  the  Duke  of  York,  at  the  celebration  of  the  Eucharist? 


WELLINGTON  ON  HIS  KNEES.  73 

The  place  has  been  much  changed,  but  I  indulged  the  idea  of  its 
essential  sameness.  On  the  altar  were  the  usual  candlesticks, 
and  the  glittering  gold  plate  of  great  size  and  massiveness,  in  the 
midst  of  which  was  conspicuous  the  Offertory-basin,  bearing  the 
royal  cypher  of  Queen  Anne.  There  was  no  one  in  the  chapel 
but  the  beadle  and — one  other  person,  in  the  seat  next  me,  at 
my  right.  There,  in  a  dim  corner,  directly  under  the  pulpit — 
quite  crouchingly  and  drawn  together,  eyes  shut,  and  white 
head  bowed  down,  Roman  nose  and  iron  features,  and  time-worn 
wrinkles,  all  tranquilized — sat  in  silence  the  hero  of  Waterloo. 
He  was  in  the  plainest  morning  dress  of  an  English  gentleman, 
frock-coat  of  blue,  and  light  trowsers.  I  scarcely  looked  at  him, 
and  yet  gained,  in  a  moment,  an  impression  of  his  entire  person, 
which  I  shall  never  lose.  Occasionally  I  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  of  a  glance  at  the  great  man,  but  who  would  venture 
to  stare  at  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  such  a  place,  and  at  such  a 
time  ?  The  Dean  of  the  chapel  entered,  with  another  clergyman, 
who  was  habited  for  the  pulpit.  A  clerical  personage,  attended 
by  two  ladies,  at  the  same  time,  came  in  as  I  had  done,  and,  dur- 
ing the  sermon,  there  were  four  other  persons  present.  The  Dean 
began  the  Communion  Service,  which  surprised  me,  as  I  had  ex- 
pected the  usual  Morning  Prayer.  Was  the  Duke  about  to  com- 
municate? Was  I  to  see  him  in  the  most  solemn  act  of  our  holy 
religion?  Was  I  to  kneel  beside'  him  to  receive  the  same  cup  of 
salvation  and  bread  of  life  ?  It  gave  me  solemn  thoughts  of  our 
common  insignificance,  in  presence  of  Him  whose  majesty  filled 
the  place,  and  on  whose  glorious  Cross  and  Passion,  I  endeavoured 
to  fix  all  my  thoughts.  For  ages  in  this  chapel,  sovereigns 
and  princes  had  literally  brought  gold  and  incense,  (as  they  do 
still,  annually,  on  the  Feast  of  the  Epiphany,)  and  offered  their 
vows  unto  the  King  of  kings ;  and  now,  there  I  knelt  with  the 
greatest  human  being  on  the  footstool ;  the  first  man  of  the  first 
nation ;  the  great  man  of  the  greatest  Empire  on  which  the  sun 
ever  shone ;  a  man  of  blood,  of  battles,  and  of  victories,  coming 
as  a  worshipper  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  to  crave  salvation  and 
receive  its  pledge !  '  And  yet,  a  greater  than  Solomon  is  here, ' 
said  my  inward  thought,  '  and  therefore  let  this  impressive  mo- 
ment be  a  foretaste  of  that  terrible  hour  when  the  Judge  of  all 
the  earth  shall  sit  upon  his  throne,  and  when  all  worldly  glories 
must  shrink  to  nothingness  before  His  Majesty.' 

I  could  not  but  observe  the  Duke,  at  the  saying  of  the  Nicene 
Creed.     As  usual,  in  England,  he  faced  about  to  the  East,  and  at 

4 


74  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

the  name  of  Jesus,  the  great  Captain  of  his  salvation,  he  bowed 
down  his  hoar  head  full  low,  as  if  he  were  indeed  a  soldier  of  the 
cross,  and  not  ashamed  to  confess  the  faith  of  Christ  crucified. 
The  Duke  was  certainly  not  as  eminent  for  sanctity  as  for  his 
many  other  qualities ;  but  who  shall  say  that  his  worship  was 
that  of  the  formalist,  or  that  the  secret  of  his  soul,  which  is  with 
God,  may  not  have  presented  to  His  eye  the  contrition  and  the 
faith  of  a  sinner  "much  forgiven  !"  Surely,  the  splendours  which 
seem  so  attractive  to  the  superficial,  must,  long  since,  have  become 
burdensome  to  him ;  and  few,  so  well  as  he,  have  been  able  to  con- 
firm by  experience  the  faithful  witness  of  inspiration,  that  "  man 
at  his  best  estate  is  altogether  vanity." 

The  Dean  is  a  grandson  of  the  celebrated  Charles  Wesley,  and  I 
was  somewhat  disappointed  that  he  was  not  the  preacher.  The 
text,  it  seemed  to  me,  had  been  selected  not  without  reference 
to  the  great  person,  whose  attendance  at  the  chapel  is  sometimes 
solitary,  and  who  having  entered  on  his  eighty-third  year  on  the 
preceding  Thursday,  might  be  supposed  to  regard  this  Sunday  as 
one  of  more  than  ordinary  solemnity.  "  Though  thy  beginning  axis 
small,  thy  latter  end  shall  greatly  increase" — (Job  viii :  7) — such  was 
the  text,  and  the  reverend  preacher  dwelt  on  the  approach  of  death, 
and  spoke  of  "  men  covered  with  worldly  wealth  and  honours,  mak- 
ing their  end  in  remorse  and  misery."  If  the  deafness  of  the  Duke 
did  not  prevent  his  hearing,  many  parts  of  the  sermon  must  have 
affected  him,  but  he  retained  the  immoveable  and  drowsy  look  of 
which  I  have  spoken  before,  and  sat  close  in  his  corner.  The  re- 
sidue of  the  service  proceeded  as  usual ;  five  persons,  myself  and 
the  beadle  included,  being  the  only  persons  present  besides  the 
officiating  clergy.  The  collection  at  the  Offertory  was  duly  made 
as  in  parish  churches,  and  at  the  proper  time  (the  beadle  opening 
the  doors  of  our  pews)  the  altar  was  surrounded.  Supposing  that 
some  etiquette  might  be  observed  in  such  a  place,  I  was  very 
much  pleased  to  find  that  the  contrary  was  the  case;  and  that  all 
present  were  expected  to  approach  the  altar  together.  The  Duke 
tottered  up,  just  before  me,  and  I  knelt  clown  at  his  side,  just 
where  the  beadle  indicated  my  place.  Of  course  I  had  other 
things  to  think  of  at  such  a  solemn  moment,  and  I  know  nothing 
of  his  deportment,  at  the  sacrament,  except  that  it  seemed  humble 
and  reverential.  "When  all  was  over,  and  the  Duke  had  retired,  the 
Dean,  who  had  beckoned  me  to  remain,  for  the  consumption  of 
the  residue  of  the  sacrament,  expressed  great  satisfaction  at  the 
presence  of  an  American  clergyman,  and  spoke  affectionately  ol 


st.  Paul's.  75 

our  Church.  He  told  me  that  the  Duke  communicated  thus  re- 
gularly on  the  first  Sunday  of  every  month :  and  I  was  glad,  as  I 

left  the  chapel,  that  I  had  been  so  happy  as  to  see  him  for  the 
first  time  when  engaged  in  such  a  duty.  He  is  now  gone  to  the 
dread  realities  we  there  confessed ;  and  there  is  something  peculiarly 
touching  in  the  recollection  of  that  morning  at  St.  James's,  when 
that  cup  of  salvation,  out  of  which  kings  and  queens  have,  so  often, 
drank  their  weal  or  woe.  passed  from  his  lips  to  mine.  It  male  me 
feel,  at  the  time,  both  out  of  place,  and  yet  at  home ;  for  what  had 
I  to  do  in  a  royal  chapel,  and  in  the  company  of  the  worldly  great  ? 
and  yet  I  was  there  because  it  was  my  Father's  house,  and  be- 
cause my  right  to  the  children's  bread  is  the  same  as  theirs,  even 
the  mercy  which  redeemed  all  men's  souls  at  the  same  unspeaka- 
ble price. 

When  I  next  saw  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  1  had  the  honour  of 
being  presented  to  him.  and  of  observing  his  person  and  his  man- 
ners more  narrowly,  in  a  scene  of  private  festivity.  I  saw  him 
once  again,  and  that,  too.  was  at  St.  James's,  amid  all  the  splen- 
dours of  the  Court,  dressed  in  his  military  uniform,  and  glittering 
with  decorations.  Even  there  he  was  the  "  observed  of  all  obser- 
vers," and  long  will  it  be  before  such  another  shall  be  seen  amid 
its  splendours,  giving,  rather  than  receiving  lustre,  in  the  face  of 
the  throne  itself.  But  to  have  seen  the  old  hero  bowing  at  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  asking  mercy  a<  a  miserable  sinner,  through 
the  precious  blood-shedding  of  Jesus  Christ,  will  often  be  one  of  the 
things  which  I  shall  most  pleasingly  recall,  when  I  see  some  poor 
dying  cottager,  or  tenant  of  a  garret,  taking  into  his  hand,  with 
as  good  a  right,  the  same  cup  of  salvation. 

When  I  first  came  into  the  neighborhood  of  St.  Paul's,  I  was 
far  more  impressed  than  I  had  expected  to  be  with  its  ding}-,  but 
still  sublime  exterior.  With  this  Cathedral  I  had  no  very  agreea- 
able  associations.  Erected  during  the  first  period  of  decline  in 
correct  taste  and  sound  theology,  subsequent  to  the  Rebellion,  it 
naturally  partakes  of  the  cold  formality  of  the  age,  and  is  alto- 
gether as  Anti-Anglican  as  pedantry  and  an  over-estimation  of 
the  classical  in  art  could  make  it.  It  is  in  the  style  of  a  Roman 
Basilica,  rather  than  of  an  English  Church,  and  is  far  more  suita- 
ble to  Tridentine  notions,  than  any  Church  in  England  erected 
before  the  Reformation.  Still,  it  is  beautiful ;  I  think  exceeding- 
ly so :  and  St.  Peter's,  in  the  Vatican,  is  as  inferior  to  this,  in 
model,  as  this  is  inferior  to  St.  Peter's  in  dimensions  and  internal 
magnificence.      I  give  my  opinion   boldly,  for  I    feel  sure  that 


76  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

there  can  be  no  just  room  for  difference  of  opinion  as  to  this  mat* 
ter.  The  more  I  saw  of  St.  Peter  s,  the  less  was  I  satisfied  wTith 
its  ill-conceived  and  awkwardly  developed  bulk ;  while  every 
time  I  saw  St.  Paul's.  I  found  myself  more  and  more  in  love 
with  its  rich  combinations  of  grace  and  majesty.  How  it  came 
to  pass  that  Michael  Angelo  and  his  partners  produced  only  a 
magnificent  monster,  while  Sir  Christopher  Wren  came  so  near 
producing  a  model  of  magnificence,  it  may  be  hard  to  tell ;  but 
though  the  latter  has  its  faults,  no  one  can  do  less  than  admit, 
that  if  the  immensity  of  St.  Peter's  embodied  the  same  outline 
and  proportions  which  are  preserved  in  St.  Paul's,  the  whole 
effect  of  the  front,  as  you  approach  it  between  the  colonnades  of 
Bernini,  would  be  inconceivably  better.  St.  Paul's  unfortunate- 
ly has  no  such  approach  ;  but  its  great  dome  looms  before  you, 
as  you  begin  to  ascend  Ludgate-hill,  for  all  the  world  like  a  peak 
of  the  Alps  descried  through  the  gorge  of  Gondo.  When  the  pro- 
mised improvements  are  made  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  church- 
yard, and  when  a  better  finish  and  composition  of  details  are 
adopted  at  the  eastern  end,  or  choir,  of  the  cathedral,  it  may  safely 
lay  claim  to  the  finest  coup  d"ml  of  its  kind  in  Christendom.  Its 
defects  are  notorious,  but  they  appear  to  me  of  minor  importance ; 
and  the  double  portico,  at  the  west  end,  so  mercilessly  criticised 
by  the  mere  grammarians  of  architecture,  strikes  me  as  worthy 
of  high  commendation,  as  a  happy  license  in  the  poetry  of  the 
art,  distinguishing  a  Christian  Church  from  a  heathen  temple. 
The  Pantheon  and  Madeleine  at  Paris  are  doubtless  more  cor- 
rect, but  they  look — the  one  as  if  Voltaire  and  Rousseau  might 
have  ordered  it  expressly  for  their  Mausoleum,  and  the  other  as 
if  Julian  himself  had  built  it  in  grateful  remembrance  of  his  early 
friends,  the  Parisians. 

I  leave  my  readers  to  imagine  the  sort  of  enthusiasm  with  which 
I  first  sauntered  about  the  purlieus  of  the  cathedral,  and  inquired  of 
my  guide-book  the  actual  site  of  the  old  Paul's  Cross,  and  strove 
to  conjure  up  the  images,  thereto  pertaining,  by  witness  of  the 
chronicler.  Alas !  how  much  rather  would  I  have  seen  the  old 
Paul's,  which  poor  Laud  so  munificently  repaired  in  the  ill  taste 
of  his  day ;  and  that  old  pulpit,  in  which  Richard  Hooker  wagged 
his  venerable  head,  than  all  this  Italian  and  classical  display 
of  Wren's !  There  is  no  relish  of  the  past  in  it :  and  it  has 
little  that  is  truly  religious  in  its  effect  on  the  mind.  Yet  as 
being  St.  Paul's,  one  feels  that  a  Greek  and  Roman  composi- 
tion would  not  befit  any  other   of  the  apostles,   so  well  as  it 


CHORAL  SERVICE.  77 

does  the  one  that  was  a  Roman  citizen,  and  the  Doctor  of  the 
Gentiles. 

Going  to  St.  Paul's  to  morning  service,  on  Sunday,  the  fourth 
of  May,  I  entered  the  south  transept,  and  for  the  first  time  beheld 
its  interior.  The  effect  of  the  immense  vault  of  the  dome,  as  it 
first  struck  my  sight,  was  overpowering — the  more  so,  because  at 
that  moment,  a  single  burst  of  the  organ,  and  the  swell  of  an  A  men 
from  the  choir,  where  service  was  already  begun,  filled  the  dome 
with  reverberations,  that  seemed  to  come  upon  me  like  thunder. 
I  was  so  unprepared  for  anything  impressive  in  St.  Paul's,  that  I 
felt  a  sort  of  recoil,  and  the  blood  flushed  to  my  temples.  I  said 
to  an  American  friend,  who  happened  to  be  with  me — "  after  all, 
'tis  indeed  sublime  !"  I  now  went  forward  with  highly  excited 
expectations,  and  the  voice  of  the  clergyman  intoning  the  prayers, 
within  the  choir,  increased  my  anxiety  to  be,  at  once,  upon  my 
knees.  I  glanced  at  the  monument  of  Howard,  and  entered  beneath 
the  screen.  The  congregation  seemed  immense.  A  verger  led 
us  quite  up  to  the  altar,  and  as  he  still  found  no  place,  conducted 
us  out  into  the  aisle,  where  I  passed  the  kneeling  statue  of  Bishop 
Heber,  with  a  trembling  emotion  of  love  and  admiration,  and  so 
was  led  about  and  put  into  a  stall,  (inscribed,  "  Weldland,"  with 
the  legend,  Exaudi  Domine  justitiam.)  where,  kneeling  down,  I 
gave  myself  up  to  the  solemn  worship  of  God.  And  solemn  wor- 
ship it  was!  I  never,  before  or  since,  heard  any  cathedral 
chaunting,  whether  in  England  or  on  the  Continent,  that  could 
be  compared  to  it  for  effect.  The  clergyman  who  intoned  the 
Litany,  knelt  in  the  midst  of  the  choir  looking  towards  the  altar. 
Even  now  I  seem  to  be  hearing  his  full,  rich  voice,  sonorously 
and  articulately,  chaunting  the  suffrage — b>/  thy  glorious  Resurrec- 
tion and  Ascension — to  which  organ  and  singers  gave  response — 
Good  Lord  deliver  us — as  with  the  voice  of  many  waters.  Then, 
as  the  next  suffrage  was  continued,  the  throbbings  and  echoes  of 
this  organ-blast  supplied  a  sort  of  under-current  to  its  simple 
tone,  at  first  pouring  down  from  the  dome  like  the  floods  of  Nia- 
gara, and  then  dying  off  along  the  distant  nave  and  aisles  like 
mighty  waves  of  the  ocean.  Tears  gushed  from  my  eyes,  and 
my  heart  swelled  to  my  throat,  as  this  overwhelming  worship 
was  continued.  It  was  all  so  entirely  unexpected  !  Cold,  cheer- 
less, modern,  all  but  Hanoverian  St.  Paul's — who  dreamed  of 
such  a  wrorship  here !  Yet  so  it  was ;  and  I  am  sure,  from  sub- 
sequent experience,  that  it  is  capable  of  being  made  a  most  attrac- 
tive cathedral,  and  a  very  useful  one.    Knock  away  that  detesta- 


78  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

ble  screen,  and  put  the  organ  in  a  better  place ;  confine  the  choir 
to  the  clergy,  and  compel  all  the  canons,  singers  and  officials  of 
every  grade  to  be  there ;  fit  up  the  Altar  end,  and  make  it  new 
with  a  pictured  window,  in  keeping  with  the  architecture  and 
vastness  of  the  place;  subdue  the  light;  set  the  pulpit  at  the 
head  of  the  nave,  and  let  the  entire  Church  be  filled  with  wor- 
shippers and  hearers :  and  then,  with  a  little  decoration,  and 
warm  colouring  to  aid  the  improved  effect,  we  shall  hear  no  more 
of  the  chilliness  and  poverty  of  this  august  interior.  It  might  be 
made  a  great  Missionary  Church  for  the  seamen  and  other  labor- 
ing classes  of  the  city  and  port  of  London  ;  while  the  aisles  should 
furnish  a  succession  of  chapels,  for  services  at  successive  hours, 
and  for  Sunday  schools,  and  catechizings.  Church  Societies  also, 
such  as  the  S.  P.  G.,  might  be  allowed  their  chapels,  in  which, 
before  sailing,  Missionaries  might  receive  the  Sacrament,  or 
offer  thanks  after  arriving  at  home.  One  would  think,  more- 
over, that  a  fitting  use  might  be  found  for  the  great  balcony, 
over  the  lower  portico,  at  the  west-end,  if  only  the  Dean  and 
Chapter  would  imitate  the  May -morning  hymn  of  Magdalen,  and, 
in  that  public  place,  offer  annual  prayers  and  thanksgivings  to 
God,  for  the  health,  peace,  and  prosperity  of  the  vast  Metropolis, 
to  which  they  might  make  themselves  the  very  centre  of  spiritual 
life,  by  a  little  inventive  effort,  in  the  line  of  useful  and  benevo- 
lent reform.  Oh,  for  a  besom  and  a  reformer  first,  and  then  for 
the  line  and  plummet  of  the  builder ! 

Dean  Milman  appeared  in  the  pulpit,  and  preached  a  well- 
written  sermon  (from  Acts  xvii.  26,)  with  evident  reference  to 
the  influx  of  divers  nations  at  the  inauguration  of  the  Great  Ex- 
hibition. But  the  Apostle,  for  whom  the  cathedral  is  named, 
would  have  preached  very  differently,  I  am  persuaded,  to  the 
assembled  Gentiles.  In  the  congregation,  I  discovered  many 
foreign  faces,  and  recognized,  (by  the  familiar  tokens  of  angu- 
lar features,  goat-locks  under  the  chin,  and  collars  turned  down,) 
not  a  few  of  the  more  inquisitive  and  irreverent  class  of  our  own 
countrymen,  who  seemed  to  think  the  rhetorical  powers  of  the 
worthy  Dean  altogether  inferior  to  those  of  the  stump,  the  camp- 
meeting,  and  the  Tabernacle  in  Broadway.  I  must  allow  that, 
if  such  were  their  impressions,  they  are  not  much  to  blame.  The 
editor  of  Gibbon,  and  of  Horace,  has  other  claims  to  our  respect, 
and  richly  deserves  an  eminent  station  in  the  Academy,  or  in 
schools  of  Taste  and  Art ;  but  the  orthodoxy  of  a  Hooker,  and 
the  zeal  of  a  Whitefield,  are  the  better  qualifications  for  such  a 


ST.    BARNABAS*.  79 

post  as  the  Deanery  of  St.  Paul's  ought  to  be.  Even  a  little  en- 
thusiasm might  be  excused  in  cathedral  preaching,  as  vastly  pre- 
ferable to  the  frigid  decorum  of  a  style  and  manner  quite  too 
rigidly  harmonious  with  the  Corinthian  and  classical  details  of  the 
surrounding  architecture. 

The  same  day  I  attended  Evening  Service  at  St.  Barnabas', 
Pimlico,  of  which  everybody  has  heard  something.  At  this  time 
Mr.  Bennett  had  ceased  to  be  the  incumbent,  and  I  was  informed 
that  the  less  defensible  practices  of  this  Church  had  been  discon- 
tinued, in  obedience  to  the  injunctions  of  the  Bishop.  I  cannot 
say  I  saw  anything  that  need  have  given  great  offence,  in  ordinary 
times  and  circumstances :  but  I  saw  not  a  little  which,  in  the 
time  of  apostacies  and  scandals,  would  more  inevitably  scandalize 
the  weaker  brethren,  than  would  many  far  more  serious  sins 
against  charity  and  brotherly  kindness.  Had  these  things  been 
other  than  absolutely  indifferent  in  themselves,  or  had  they  been 
less  seemingly  imitative  of  some  ceremonies  foreign  to  our  primi- 
tive Catholicity,  one  might  have  said,  at  any  rate,  that  they  were 
quite  as  tolerable  as  the  corresponding  ultraisms  of  the  opposing 
extreme  in  the  Church.  I  certainly  tried  to  feel  both  charity 
and  fraternal  sympathy  for  the  brethren  of  St.  Barnabas',  for  I 
had  heard  them  well-reported  of  for  many  good  works.  Yet, 
my  impressions  were  not  altogether  favorable.  On  the  whole, 
the  effect  was  that  of  formalism  beyond  anything  I  ever  saw  in 
our  Communion.  The  architecture  was  somewhat  too  highly 
charged  with  medievalism  for  reformed  Anglican  worship,  but 
would  be  not  less  inappropriate,  in  several  particulars,  to  modern 
Romanism.  It  was  antiquarian,  rather  than  practical  in  any 
respect.  The  service  seemed  to  be  performed  in  the  same 
aesthetic  and  almost  histrionic  spirit,  even  where  the  rubric  was 
strictly  complied  with.  One  could  not  say  just  what  was  inex- 
cusable, and  yet  felt  that  little  was  done  unto  edifying.  The  evil 
seemed  to  be  that  its  good  was  made  to  be  evil  spoken  of,  by  the 
excessive  and  unnatural,  if  not  unreal  way  in  which  it  was  ex- 
hibited. Good  there  was,  undoubtedly,  in  the  original  idea  of 
this  Church,  and  one  scruples  to  impeach  the  motive  of  such  dis- 
plays of  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God :  but  we  have  the  positive  rule 
of  St.  Paul,  given  by  precept  and  example,  that  everything  be- 
yond what  is  the  ordinance  and  custom  of  the  Church,  is  to  be 
subordinated  to  the  great  work  of  evangelizing  men  compassed 
with  infirmities,  and  who  oppose  to  the  Gospel  the  divers  preju- 
dices of  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew.     I  am  very  much  afraid  the 


80  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

contrary  is  the  rule  at  St.  Barnabas'.  After  the  Evening  Service, 
the  congregation  was  dismissed  without  a  sermon.  Although  the 
assembly  was  far  from  large,  and  however  true  it  may  be  that 
prayers  are  better  than  preaching,  in  certain  circumstances,  I 
certainly  felt  that  a  few  words  of  exhortation  might  have  added 
a  spirit  of  reality  to  the  solemnities,  and  could  not  have  seemed 
out  of  place  on  the  Lord's  Day,  even  at  Evening  Service. 

Later  in  the  evening,  I  attended  St.  George's,  Hanover-Square, 
the  Church  so  distinguished  for  marriages  in  high-life,  and  for  a 
fashionable  prestige  altogether.  Here  one  sees  Hanover  indeed  !  The 
names  of  its  successive  Churchwardens  are  emblazoned  on  the 
galleries,  and  I  observed  that  they  were  generally  those  of  noblemen 
and  gentry.  Fashion  was  much  too  prominent.  A  young  and 
well-looking  preacher,  in  Episcopal  robes,  appeared  in  the  pulpit, 
and  discoursed  articulately,  and  with  some  spirit,  (on  Rev.  xxii. 
17,)  though  not  remarkably  in  other  respects.  This  was  the  new 
Bishop  of  Nova  Scotia,  who  has  since  entered  into  the  labors  of 
his  missionary  field  with  great  diligence  and  success. 

I  had  attended  four  distinct  services  in  divers  parts  of  the 
Metropolis  this  day,  and  I  was  informed  that  I  might  easily  have 
attended  as  many  more.  Very  different  hours  are  kept  in  dif- 
ferent parishes ;  and  it  is  not  unusual  for  one,  two,  or  even  three 
Morning  Services  to  be  celebrated  in  the  same  Church,  to  accom- 
modate different  classes  of  worshippers.  Such  is  one  fruit  of  the 
awakened  vitality  of  the  Church  of  England. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


Rambles— The  Tower. 

In  Paternoster-Row  I  cruised  about,  and  came  to  Amen  Cor- 
ner quite  too  soon  for  satisfaction.  I  strove  also  to  understand 
the  precise  bounds  of  Little  Britain,  as  I  plodded  therein,  and 
bethought  me  of  its  right  worshipful  reputation  for  books  and 
men  of  letters  in  olden  times.  In  Cheapside,  I  could  see  nothing 
but  John  Gilpin  and  his  family,  till  I  came  to  Bow  Church,  and, 
by  good  luck,  heard  a  full  peal  of  the  very  bells  that  -make  cock- 
neys, and  that  whilom  made  poor  AVhittington  o'  the  Cat  a  Lord 
Mayor.  What  they  were  ringing  for  did  not  appear,  as  the 
Church  was  shut.  So  I  fared  on  through  the  Poultry  and  Corn- 
hill,  paying  due  deference  to  the  Royal  Exchange,  till  on  a  sudden, 
by  some  odd  crooks  and  twisting*  through  the  very  ventricles  of 
this  heart  of  the  Metropolis,  I  came  before  the  Tower.  It  gave 
me  a  thrill  of  emotion  to  see  it  before  me :  and  '  here  is  Tower- 
Hill,'  said  I — '  here  stood  the  scaffold — and  I  am  sure  these 
walls  must  have  been  the  last  things  seen,  before  they  closed 
their  eyes  forever,  by  Strafford,  and  by  Laud,  and  by  so  many 
before  and  after.'  And  these  the  towers  of  Ccesar,  and  their 
history  the  history  of  England  almost  ever  since  his  conquest ! 

The  Church  of  All-Hallows,  Barking,  happened  to  stand  open, 
much  to  my  satisfaction,  as  I  was  threading  a  very  narrow  and 
old-fashioned  street  near  the  Tower ;  and  I  entered,  with  a  thrill 
of  emotion,  to  behold  the  venerable  interior,  where  the  service  for 
the  burial  of  the  dead  was  read  over  the  bleeding  corpse  of  Arch- 
bishop Laud,  as  it  was  brought  in  just  after  the  axe  had  made 
him  a  martvr,  and  here  temporarily  interred.     I  remembered  that 

4* 


82  impressions  of  England. 

Southey  remarks  that  the  Prayer-Book  itself  seemed  to  share  in 
his  funeral,  for  on  the  same  day,  the  Parliament  made  it  a  crime 
to  use  it  in  any  solemnity  whatever :  and  I  endeavored  to  recall  the 
scene  of  desolation  which  must  then  have  smitten  to  the  heart 
any  true  son  of  the  Church  of  England  who  was  its  spectator, 
beholding,  as  he  did,  the  Primate  of  all  England  going  down  into 
the  sepulchre,  as  the  last,  apparently,  of  his  dignity  and  order ; 
the  Church  herself  beheaded,  if  not  destroyed,  with  him ;  and 
the  Prayer-Book  reading  its  own  burial !  Thank  God,  there  I 
stood,  two  hundred  years  later,  a  living  witness  of  the  resurrection 
of  that  Church  and  its  ritual,  and  of  its  powerful  life,  in  the 
new  world  of  the  West.  I  trust  I  did  not  offer  a  vain 
thanksgiving  upon  the  spot.  I  then  looked  at  the  old  tombs  and 
brasses,  which  are  interesting,  if  not  fine.  Here  kneel  a  worship- 
ful old  knight  and  his  dame,  with  their  nine  or  ten  children, 
demurely  cut  in  alabaster,  upon  the  common  tomb  of  the 
parents;  and  there  is  a  brass,  said  to  be  Flemish,  commemorating 
another  pair,  who  were  laid  to  rest  the  same  year  that  saw  Bishop 
Fisher  and  Sir  Thomas  More  beheaded  and  interred  in  this  same 
Church.  Here,  too,  is  some  fine  carving ;  and  some  of  the  pews 
have  curious  adornings,  in  token  of  their  being  the  place  for 
magistrates  and  high  parochial  functionaries,  of  divers  degrees. 
Surely,  no  one  should  fail  to  see  this  Church  when  he  visits  the 
Tower. 

And  now  I  turned  towards  that  old  historic  pile,  repeating,  as  it 
rose  upon  my  sight,  those  striking  lines  of  Gray's — 

"  Ye  Towers  of  Julius,  London's  lasting  shame, 
With  many  a  foul  and  midnight  murder  fed  !" 

Its  very  foundations  were  laid  in  blood,  if  so  be,  indeed,  as  the 
old  chronicler  asserts,  "  its  mortar  was  tempered  with  the  blood 
of  beasts ;"  and  for  long  ages  it  has  never  slaked  its  thirst  for  the 
blood  of  human  beings,  till  now,  in  the  halcyon  days  of  Victoria, 
it  stands  a  lonely  monument  of  those  barbarian  elements,  out  of 
which  has  risen  the  nobler  fabric  of  British  freedom.  Nor  should 
it  be  forgotten,  that  popular  violence  as  well  as  princely  tyranny, 
has  glutted  the  spot  with  murder.  Of  the  many  worthies  whom 
we  must  remember  here,  none  were  more  grossly  butchered  than 
Laud  and  Strafford,  the  victims  of  a  ravening  fanaticism ;  unless 
we  except  those  gentler  sufferers,  whose  sex  and  spotless  inno- 
cence leave  their  murderers  without  even  the  appearance  of 
excuse.     A  cold   chill  fell  upon  me  as  I  entered  the  fatal  pre- 


TOWER   ARMORY.  83 

cincts,  thinking  how  many  had  passed  the  same  gates  never  to 
return.  If  there  be  a  haunted  spot  in  all  the  world,  it  should  be 
this  Tower  ;  and,  indeed,  strange  stories  are  on  credible  record, 
which  might  well  assist  the  fancy  in  conceiving  that  the  ghosts 
of  its  old  tenants,  of  the  fouler  sort,  do  sometimes  revisit  the 
scene  of  their  dark  and  dreadful  deaths. 

The  red-liveried  yeomen,  in  the  costume  of  the  guards  of 
Edward  VI.,  receive  you  as  you  enter  the  gate  beneath  its  old 
portcullis,  and  these  are  themselves  no  poor  auxiliaries  to  your 
efforts  at  reproducing  the  past.  One  of  them  (they  are  popularly 
known  as  beef-eaters)  conducts  you  to  the  Armory  and  Jewel-room 
forthwith,  it  being  taken  for  granted  that  you  have  come  to  see 
these  things  particularly.  Imagine  yourself,  then,  passing  through 
an  immense  outer-wall,  in  the  circuit  of  which  are  set,  like  senti- 
nels, the  several  inferior  citadels,  known  as  the  Bloody  Tower,  the 
Beauchamp  Tower,  and  the  like.  You  gain  the  open  court,  or 
area,  and  in  the  centre  rises  the  immense  quadrangular  and  turreted 
mass,  which  overhangs  this  part  of  London :  it  is  the  Keep,  or 
White  Tower,  called  also  Caesar's,  though  built  by  William  the 
Norman.  You  pass  the  Bloody  Tower,  in  which  the  young 
princes  were  smothered  by  the  hunch-back  Richard,  and  are 
shown  into  the  Armory.  Here  you  see,  amid  all  sorts  of  brist- 
ling weapons,  the  sovereigns  of  England,  from  Edward  I.  to 
James  if.,  all  on  horseback,  and  most  of  them  in  the  armour  of 
their  times.  The  growth  and  decline  of  knightly  harness  is  thus 
exhibited  entire,  from  the  "twisted  mail"  of  Edward's  hauberk, 
down  to  the  merely  ornamental  breast-plate  of  the  recreant 
Stuart.  What  a  piocession  !  Some  of  the  visors  are  down,  and 
others  are  lifted — but  to  an  imaginative  eye,  every  figure  appears 
instinct  with  vitality.  Their  very  steeds,  in  their  plated  steel  and 
ancient  housings,  semn  clothed  with  thunder.  Elizabeth,  of 
course,  retains  her  own  fantastic  costume,  but  there  she  sits 
before  you,  in  spite  ot  ner  peacock  display,  a  glorious  memorial 
of  Tilbury,  and  you  can  fancy  her  prancing  before  her  troops, 
and  inspiring  them  to  repel  the  '"foul  scorn"  of  the  Armada. 
That  very  suit  of  armour,  now  stuffed  with  the  resemblance  of  her 
father,  was  once  worn  by  bluff  old  Hal  himself;  and  further  on, 
is  the  beautiful  array  of  steel,  in  which  the  goodly  limbs  of  the 
Royal  Martyr  were  once  actually  encased.  Xor  are  the  heroes 
of  this  august  Valhalla  without  other  trophies  of  their  times  and 
achievements.  Here  are  bills,  pikes  and  partizans,  Lochaber- 
axes  and  glaives,  broadswords  and  stilettoes ;  and  then  all  manner 


84  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

of  fire-arms,  from  the  earliest  and  heaviest  matchlock  down 
through  all  the  grades  of  muskets,  to  musketoons,  pistols,  and 
pistolets.  And  then  there  are  saw-shot,  and  bar-shot,  and 
spike-shot,  and  star-shot ;  and  then  culverins  and  petards ;  and 
weapons  offensive  and  defensive  of  all  sorts  and  kinds.  And 
they  bear  marks  of  having  been  well  used  in  their  day.  Here 
the  wars  of  the  Roses  have  battered  a  helmet  and  pierced  a 
shield:  through  that  hole  in  the  corslet,  once  spouted  the  rich 
blood  of  a  hero  at  Tewksbury :  that  visor  was  rusted  by  the  last 
sigh  of  another  such  as  Marmion,  on  Flodden-field.  Even  this 
bludgeon  of  a  staff,  with  pistols  at  the  handle,  has  dealt  midnight 
blows  in  the  hands  of  the  British  Blue-beard,  as  he  patrolled  the 
streets  of  his  capital,  in  the  spirit  of  Haroun  Al  Raschid,  some- 
what heightened  by  the  spirit  of  wine. 

I  was  not  above  looking  curiously  and  thoughtfully  at  the  ex- 
hibition of  Popery,  displayed  in  the  relics  of  the  Armada.  At 
the  Crystal  Palace  there  was  a  very  bold  and  enticing  parade  of 
the  modern  instruments  of  this  Protean  enthusiasm,  in  the  shape 
of  candlesticks  and  monstrances,  thuribles  and  pyxes,  and  all 
sorts  of  embroideries,  spangles,  laces,  and  millinery.  By  such 
things  it  would  convert  England  now.  In  Elizabeth's  day,  its 
missionaries  were  less  attractive.  Bilboes,  collars,  thumb-screws, 
and  iron  cravats ;  stocks,  fetters,  and  manacles ;  a  sort  of  porta- 
ble Inquisition  was,  in  short,  the  great  reliance  of  the  Pope  in 
those  times,  for  the  reduction  of  the  heretic  English :  and  here, 
no  doubt,  old  Fuller  would  go  on  to  say,  that  "  if  forsooth  we 
should  feel  closely  about  the  fine  things  of  even  modern  Poperie, 
we  might,  perchance,  find  a  prickly  point,  or  a  sharp  edge,  or  a 
rough  chain,  if  not  faggots  and  gun-powder  also,  stowed  away 
among  all  their  fancy  stuffes  and  petticoats."  I  could  not  satisfy 
myself  with  looking  at  these  antiquarian  treasures  however,  nor 
shall  I  attempt  to  satisfy  my  reader  by  detailing  them.  Let  him 
think  how  he  would  feel  to  touch  the  very  axe  that  divided  the  little 
fair  neck  of  Anne  Boleyn,  and  the  stiffer  sinews  of  the  Earl  of 
Essex.  Even  the  block  on  which  old  Lovat  laid  his  worthless 
head,  loaded  with  crimes  as  many  as  his  hoary  hairs,  gives  one  a 
shudder,  though  no  man  pitied  him  when  he  fell.  It  is,  more- 
over, a  monument  of  interest,  because  there  the  axe  stayed,  and 
has  never  since  been  lifted  on  the  head  of  a  British  subject.  He 
died  in  1746,  in  the  cause  of  the  old  Pretender;  and  possibly 
this  fact  suggested  to  me  the  thought,  (by  which  alone  I  can  con- 
vey any  just  idea  of  this  Armory,)   that  the  whole  exhibition 


THE    EEGALIA.  85 

seems  to  be  a  complete  property-room  of  the  "Waverley  novels. 
If  the  characters  of  those  successive  tales  could  have  deposited 
in  one  room  the  antiquarian  implements  and  costumes  to  which 
they  gave  a  sort  of  resurrection,  they  would  have  furnished  us 
with  very  much  such  a  collection  as  that  of  this  Armory  of  the 
Tower. 

A  new  stone  strong  room  has  been  built  for  the  Royal  Jewels, 
and  one  now  sees  the  Regalia  by  day-light.  It  is  a  glittering 
show;  but  nothing  seems  to  be  very  ancient  in  the  collec- 
tion, except  the  spoon  wherewith  anointing  oil  has  been  poured 
on  all  the  royal  heads  that  have  been  crowned  since  the  days  of 
Edward  the  Confessor.  How  many  Archbishops  have  held  its 
handle  ;  how  many  princes  have  been  touched  with  its  bowl !  At 
the  bare  thought,  all  the  history  of  England  seemed  to  rise 
before  my  sight,  and  I  felt  that  there  is  a  value  in  such  symbols 
of  a  Nation's  continuous  existence.  When  displayed,  not  as 
gewgaws  of  a  vulgar  pomp,  but  as  the  memorials  of  a  fruitful 
antiquity,  they  cannot  but  inspire  a  sentiment  of  veneration  in 
every  beholder,  and  serve  to  keep  alive  the  vestal  flame  of  loyalty 
and  love  for  a  throne  which  is  invested,  indeed,  with  traditional 
splendours,  but  which  rests  on  the  surer  foundations  of  existing 
freedom  and  righteous  law. 

When  I  stood  again  in  the  open  court,  I  longed  to  be  told 
nothing  so  much  as  where  the  old  Archbishop  was  confined, 
when  he  gave  Strafford  that  parting  benediction.  It  had  been 
arranged  by  Usher,  their  common  friend,  that  they  should  thus 
take  leave  of  one  another.  The  noble  Strafford  came  forth 
walking  to  the  scaffold  on  Tower-hill,  but  craved  permission  to 
do  his  last  observance  to  his  friend.  For  a  moment  he  feared 
the  old  primate  had  forgotten  him,  but  just  then  he  appeared  at 
the  dismal  window  of  his  own  prison.  "  My  Lord — jour  prayers 
and  your  blessing" — said  Strafford,  kneeling  down:  and  the 
benediction  was  given  accordingly;  after  which  the  primate 
swooned  in  a  fit  of  sorrow,  while  the  stout  Earl  rising,  said, 
"  God  protect  your  innocence,"  and  then  stepped  onward  with  a 
military  bearing,  and  passed  to  his  execution,  as  if  it  were  to  a 
triumph.  Somewhere  here,  all  this  went  on  !  I  could  almost 
fancy  it  before  my  eye.  Then,  too,  I  thought  of  Raleigh.  And 
here,  hard  by,  was  the  undoubted  spot,  within  the  walls,  where 
stood  the  scaffold  on  which  suffered  the  Queens  Anne  Boleyn  and 
Katharine  Howard ;  and  Lady  Jane  Gray,  more  lovely  and  more 
innocent  than  either.     But  it  was  not  the  things  to  be  looking  at 


86  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

such  a  spot  in  broad  daylight.  How  much  I  should  have  been 
pleased  with  the  privilege  of  lodging,  just  one  night  in  the  White 
Tower,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  stand  at  my  window  and  look  out 
upon  the  Court,  and  upon  Tower-hill,  by  pale  moonlight,  and  so — 
to  think,  and  think,  and  think  ! 

By  dint  of  perseverance,  I  gained  admission  to  the  Beauchamp 
Tower,  occupied  at  present  by  some  officers  as  a  mess-room. 
The  apartments  are  covered  with  carvings  and  inscriptions,  the 
work  of  many  illustrious  prisoners,  in  past  times,  and  with  some 
that  merely  tell  of  human  sorrow,  mysteriously,  and  without  the 
name  of  any  one  that  is  known,  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  they  ex- 
cite. A  rich  carving,  in  which  figures  the  well-known  bear  and 
ragged  staff,  reveals  the  prison  thoughts  of  Dudley,  Earl  of  War- 
wick, father-in-law  to  the  Lady  Jane.  There  is  another  inscription, 
very  naturally  ascribed  to  poor  Lord  Guilford  Dudley — the  sim- 
ple letters  IANE.  His  sweet  Jane  was  soon  to  breathe  her 
farewells  to  him  from  her  own  lonely  cell,  and,  after  seeing  his 
bleeding  corpse  brought  in  from  the  scaffold,  to  follow  him  to  the 
block.  The  initials  K.  D.  betray  the  work  of  another  Dudley, 
who  lived  to  be  the  favorite  of  Elizabeth,  and  the  dismal  hus- 
band of  Amy  Robsart.  Here  figure  also  memorials  of  Henry's 
victims,  and  of  the  Marian  Confessors,  and  not  a  few  of  those 
who  suffered  under  the  last  of  the  Tudors.  Underneath  these 
rooms  is  the  "  rats'  dungeon,"  where  many  have  suffered  the  ex- 
treme of  human  agony ;  and  directly  overhead  is  "  the  doleful 
prison"  of  Anne  Boleyn.  Remorseless,  indeed,  must  have  been 
the  heart  of  her  husband,  if  in  truth  she  sent  him  the  letter,  said 
to  have  been  endited  there,  and  if,  after  reading  it,  he  could 
still  abandon  to  the  block  the  head  that  had  so  often  reclined  in 
his  bosom. 

I  was  resolved  not  to  leave  these  awful  precincts  until  I  had 
also  visited  the  Church  of  St.  Peter  ad  Vincula,  the  burial-place 
of  so  many  of  those  whom  I  had  thus  endeavored  to  recall  to 
mind.  After  some  patience  and  perseverance  I  was  admitted, 
and  stood  upon  what  a  clever  writer  has  justly  called  one  of  the 
saddest  spots  on  earth.  So  many  graves,  of  so  many  destroyed 
worthies,  are  here  gathered  together,  that  one  necessarily  thinks, 
as  he  stands  by  them,  of  the  day  of  judgment.  What  a  resur- 
rection there  will  be  in  this  place  at  that  day — a  resurrection  of  the 
just  and  the  unjust !  The  Church  is  sadly  disfigured,  and  should 
be  reverently  restored,  but  its  pointed  arches  and  mural  monu- 
ments, with  kneeling  figures,  and  one  rich  altar-tomb,  with  effi- 


VICTIMS.  87 

gies,  still  elevate  the  interior  above  an  ordinary  effect.  Near 
this  tomb  repose  the  bodies  of  the  weak  Kilmarnock  and  the 
sturdy  Balmerino  ;  and  upon  my  saying  something  about  them  to 
the  sexton,  he  told  me  that,  in  digging  lately,  he  had  come  to  the 
relics  of  their  coffins.  He  then  lifted  a  cushion  in  one  of  the 
seats,  and  showed  me  the  coffin-plates,  which  he  had  taken  from 
the  earth.  Sure  enough,  there  they  were,  quite  legible,  inscribed 
with  their  names  and  titles,  and  the  sad  date,  1746.  I  remem- 
bered how  I  had  read  in  a  contemporary  number  of  "  The  Gentle- 
man's Magazine,"  and  in  Horace  Walpole's  Gossip,  the  contrary 
impressions  made  upon  these  Jacobites  by  the  scene  in  which 
they  were  to  suffer.  Kilmarnock  acted  pitiably,  for  his  con- 
science was  alive  to  his  sin  and  folly ;  but  Balmerino  was  troubled 
with  very  little  of  a  conscience  whatever,  and  what  he  had  was 
such  as  to  persuade  him  that  he  was  dying  in  a  good  cause.  The 
old  hero  cried  "  God  save  King  James,"  to  the  last ;  and,  striding 
up  to  his  coffin,  put  on  his  glasses,  and  read  this  very  inscription, 
and  said  it  was  all  right.  Now,  I  was  reading  it  fresh  from  the 
earth,  after  a  hundred  years  had  gone  by.  It  greatly  moved  me. 
Then,  I  thought  of  Laud  hobbling  into  this  chapel,  lame  and 
feeble,  leaning  on  his  servant,  but  standing  up  amid  the  peo- 
ple, while  the  preacher  railed  at  him  ;  said  preacher  wearing  his 
gown  over  a  buff'  jerkin,  as  the  holder,  at  the  same  time,  of  a 
parochial  benefice  in  Essex,  and  the  captaincy  of  a  troop  of 
horse  in  the  rebel  army !  But  where  did  memories  begin  or  end, 
when  I  tried  to  collect  them  in  such  a  place  ?  Here  lies,  beneath 
the  altar,  the  daring  Duke  of  Monmouth,  hacked  and  hewed  to 
death  by  his  awkward  headsman  ;  and,  not  less  barbarously  mur- 
dered, here  lies  that  venerable  lady,  the  last  of  the  Plantagenets. 
Cromwell  lies  there,  for  helping  Henry  Bluebeard ;  and  there, 
too,  More  and  Fisher,  for  resisting  him ;  Anne  Boleyn  and  Lord 
Rochford  lie  there,  for  being  innocent ;  and  Katherine  Howard 
and  lady  Rochford,  for  being  guilty.  Two  Dukes  are  buried 
between  the  two  Queens ;  and  there  Lord  Guilford  Dudley  once 
more  reposes  with  his  lovely  Lady  Jane.  Here  lies  brother  slain 
by  brother,  the  slayer  sharing,  in  his  turn,  the  fate  of  the  slain ; 
and  these,  with  Monmouth,  mercilessly  condemned  by  his  uncle, 
and  the  two  Queens  murdered  by  their  own  husband,  seem  to 
accomplish  the  melancholy  record  with  associations  of  crime  the 
most  complicate,  and  of  accountability  the  most  dreadful  that 
can  well  be  imagined.     Oh,   God !  what  reckonings   yet  to  be 


88  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

settled  by  Thee  alone,  are  laid  up  against  that  day,  even  in  the 
little  compass  of  these  walls. 

I  made  a  parting  circuit  to  survey  the  Bloody  Tower  and  its 
sharp-toothed  portcullis — the  only  one  in  England  that  still  rises 
and  falls  in  a  gate-way,  and  refuses  not  its  office ;  the  Bowyer's 
Tower,  in  which  poor  Clarence  was  drowned  in  Malmsey ;  the 
Brick  Tower,  said  to  have  been  the  prison  of  Lady  Jane  Grey ; 
and  the  Salt  Tower,  which,  with  its  adjoining  wall,  I  found 
nearly  demolished,  and  in  process  of  restoration.  Finally,  I 
went  round  upon  the  water-side  and  surveyed  the  Traitor's  Gate, 
so  called.  Here,  then,  are  the  jaws  of  this  devouring  monster, 
sated  at  last,  apparently ;  but  who  knows  1  Under  that  arch  have 
passed,  one  after  another,  those  great  historic  characters,  whose 
names  we  have  already  reviewed.  They  abandoned  hope  when 
they  entered  here ;  and  almost  always  with  good  reason.  One 
alone  on  whom,  in  youthful  sorrow,  and  by  a  sister's  cruel  injunc- 
tion, these  massive  gates  yawned  and  closed,  became,  in  turn, 
their  mistress  ;  and — alas  !  for  human  nature — made  them  often 
gape  for  others.  Think  of  Elizabeth  Tudor  passing  under  this 
arch,  the  captive  of  the  Bloody  Mary !  Who  then  could  have 
foreseen  the  days  of  Hooker,  and  of  Burleigh,  and  of  Shaks- 
peare  !  Think  of  old  Laud  in  his  barge,  day  after  day,  return- 
ing through  this  arch  from  his  trial,  to  his  prison,  exhausted  and 
panting  like  a  hart  pierced  by  the  archers,  from  the  cruel  shafts 
of  Prynne  and  his  confederates,  but  accompanied,  perhaps,  by  his 
noble  defender,  Sir  Matthew  Hale.  Oh !  could  he  but  have  seen 
the  Anglican  Church  of  the  nineteenth  century,  how  thin  would 
have  seemed  the  clouds  which  were  gathering  around  her  at  that 
awful  period,  and  which  he  feared,  no  doubt,  were  to  overwhelm 
her  forever.  Such  were  some  of  the  thoughts,  partly  sad,  but 
largely  grateful,  with  which  I  found  myself  chained  to  the  place  ; 
and  even  when  it  was  time  to  go,  still  disposed  to  linger  about 
the  spot,  and  bend  musingly  above  the  Traitors'  Gate  of  the 
Tower. 


CHAPTER  .XII. 


Two  Nights  in  the  House  of  Commons. 

As  soon  as  I  could  devote  an  evening  to  the  purpose,  I  made 
my  first  visit  to  the  House  of  Commons,  going  at  a  very  early 
hour  in  the  afternoon,  and  sitting  through  the  whole  till  after 
midnight.  This  House,  since  removed  to  the  new  Palace,  then 
held  its  sessions  in  what  was  formerly  the  House  of  Lords,  said 
to  be  the  scene  of  all  the  historic  events  which  have  illustrated 
that  body  for  ages,  down  to  the  reign  of  William  Fourth.  It 
was  fitted  up  for  the  Commons  after  the  fire  of  1834,  which 
destroyed  St.  Stephen's  Chapel.  It  was,  first  of  all,  the  hall  of 
Edward  Confessor's  Palace;  was  subsequently  the  scene  of  a 
fierce  passage  in  the  life  of  Coeur-de-Lion ;  and  also  of  that 
romantic  incident  which  Shakspeare  makes  the  first  scene  in  his 
Richard  Second.  There  Bacon  presided,  and  was  impeached, 
and  fell.  Lord  Chatham's  expiring  effort  was  made  there ;  and 
there  he  thundered  those  noble  remonstrances  against  the  Ameri- 
can war,  in  which  our  own  history  is  so  intimately  concerned. 
Its  fitting-up,  however,  for  the  temporary  use  of  the  Commons, 
gave  it  a  very  modern  appearance,  and  it  was  as  plain  as  can 
well  be  imagined.  Before  I  returned  to  America,  its  interior  had 
been  pulled  to  pieces,  and  the  materials  sold  under  the  hammer. 
I  saw  it,  therefore,  in  the  Omega  of  its  legislative  uses,  centuries 
having  expired  since  its  Alpha.  Mr.  Lawrence,  our  worthy 
Ambassador,  had  kindly  supplied  me  with  a  ticket,  which  admit- 
ted the  bearer  to  the  diplomatic  benches.  These  are  on  the  floor 
of  the  House,  and  are  only  separated  from  those  of  the  members 
by  a  nominal  division  ;  so  that,  in  fact,  I  found  myself  surrounded 
by  them.  At  first  the  House  was  thin,  and  it  grew  thinner 
towards  seven  o'clock;  but  at  about  nine  o'clock  it  began  to  fill 
again,  the  members  returning  from  their  dinners,  most  of  them  in 


90  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

full  dress.  The  earlier  hours  were  consumed  in  dull  and  unim- 
portant matters,  and  business  seemed  to  drag  on  like  the  daylight, 
till  the  place  began  to  be  as  stupid  as  it  was  dark  and  gloomy ; 
when  suddenly  the  Speaker  touched  a  bell,  and  a  flood  of  soft 
light  was  showered  from  the  ceiling,  not  a  lamp  or  burner  being 
visible.  This  mode  of  illumination  was  quite  new  to  me, 
although  I  have  heard  of  similar  effects  produced  in  the  same 
way  in  America.  It  seemed  to  quicken  and  cheer  up  every- 
thing, till  the  Speaker  left  his  place  suddenly,  (for  refreshments, 
it  was  said,)  and  then  all  stood  still,  the  members  yawning  and 
lounging  about,  and  talking  in  a  very  undignified  manner.  When 
the  Speaker  returned,  business  seemed  to  have  begun.  A  mes- 
sage was  received  from  the  House  of  Lords,  with  the  usual 
formalities;  but,  I  observed  that  as  the  messenger  backed  out, 
making  his  three  bows,  he  stumbled,  and  excited  a  laugh,  at 
which  he  also  laughed,  and  then  retired,  winking  and  exchanging 
grimaces  with  sundry  acquaintances,  as  much  as  to  say — who 
cares.  He  was  dressed  in  wig  and  gown,  and  was  probably  one 
of  the  clerks  of  the  Lords ;  and  he  was  attended  in  the  Commons 
by  the  Sergeant-at-Arms,  who  was  dressed  in  court-costume,  and 
during  the  ceremony  carried  the  Mace  on  his  shoulder.  The 
sight  of  "that  bauble"  revived  the  recollection  of  scenes  in  the 
House  of  Commons  of  a  very  different  character. 

The  great  business  of  the  evening  was  a  debate  on  the  Malt- 
tax,  which  brought  out  all  the  strength  of  the  House,  and  enabled 
the  opposition  to  talk  "  Protection,"  with  a  show  of  very  great 
sympathy  for  the  distresses  of  "  the  British  farmer."  Mr.  Disraeli 
made  a  great  speech,  in  his  way ;  but  it  is  a  very  poor  way,  his 
whole  manner  being  declamatory  and  sophomorical  in  the  ex- 
treme. I  had  met  him  several  times  as  I  sauntered  through  Pall 
Mall,  and  looked  in  vain  for  any  traces  in  his  face  and  manner 
of  the  clever  author  of  Coningsby  and  its  successors.  A  jaunty 
and  rather  flashy  young  man,  with  black  ringlets,  twisted  about  a 
face  quite  devoid  of  elevated  expression — such  was  the  impres- 
sion he  gave  me  in  the  open  air,  and  in  the  House  of  Commons  I 
saw  nothing  at  variance  with  it.  He  is  certainly  a  man  of  parts, 
but  that  such  as  he  should  have  forced  his  way  to  the  Leader- 
ship of  the  House  of  Commons,  only  proves  the  extreme  medi- 
ocrity of  this  generation.  That  he  is  a  Jew  is  a  great  bar  to  his 
advancement,  although  he  is  a  Jewish  Christian.  He  affects, 
however,  to  be  very  proud  of  his  Oriental  origin,  and  perhaps  he 
may  be  so ;  but  one  feels  that  he  cannot  be  confided  in,  and  that 


LORD   JOHX    Rl'SSELL.  91 

he  is  a  mere  adventurer.  He  seemed  to  me  to  ape  Sir  Eobert 
Peel,  in  his  way  of  thrusting  his  arm  behind  the  skirts  of  the 
coat,  and  exposing  the  whole  "waistcoat  in  a  flaring  manner.  I 
have  heard  as  good  talking  at  a  debating  club  as  he  treated  us  to 
that  night  in  the  House  of  Commons.  Still  he  made  some  good 
hits  at  Ministers,  and  was  often  interrupted  by  cries  of  hear,  hear, 
hear,  which  are  rather  muttered  than  vociferated  around  the 
benches.  He  has  since  been  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  him- 
self adopting  the  very  policy  which  he  then  abused  in  terms  the 
most  noisy  and  passionate. 

Ministers  were,  of  course,  not  slow  in  replying,  and  I  had  a 
chance  of  beholding  some  of  the  expiring  grimaces  of  Lord 
John  Russell,  whose  feeble  government  was  just  ready  to  mil  to 
pieces  of  itself.  I  knew  the  man  as  soon  as  I  saw  him  in  the 
House.  There  he  sat,  under  a  hat  that  seemed  to  extinguish 
his  features,  trying  to  laugh  and  look  good-natured.  At  last  he 
rose,  and  I  observed  that  the  familiar  caricatures  of  Punch  were 
in  fact  good  likenesses.  He  is  his  own  caricature.  A  diminu- 
tive utterer  of  "great,  swelling  words;"  paltry,  and  yet  pompous; 
and  altogether  as  insignificant  a  person  as  I  ever  saw  dressed  in 
brief  authority.  Pie  had  only  a  few  plain  things  to  say,  and  yet 
he  contrived  to  utter  them,  as  if  he  were  saying — "  I  am  Sir 
Oracle."  Cries  of  divide  had  circulated  pretty  freely  during  the 
whole  debate,  and  now  I  saw  a  division.  A  personage  who  had 
been  very  polite  to  me  during  the  evening,  volunteered  to  put  me 
where  I  might  see  the  whole  process.  Just  before  the  division, 
members  came  running  in  from  the  clubs,  and  the  "whipper-in" 
returned  to  his  seat,  having  discharged  his  duty  in  securing  the 
attendance  of  votes  for  the  Government.  Members  had  been 
pairing  off  the  whole  time,  apparently  to  attend  a  ball  or  the 
Opera,  as  the  pairs  were  nearly  always  in  full  dress.  Their 
negotiations  seemed  to  be  made  near  the  bar  of  the  House,  and 
the  Speaker  was  constantly  silencing  the  buzz  of  members  and 
spectators,  by  the  cry  of  "  order — order,"  or  "  order  at  the  bar," 
which  Mr.  Shaw  Lefevre  knows  how  to  speak  most  potently. 
At  length  for  the  division,  the  galleries  were  cleared  at  the 
sound  of  certain  bells,  which  the  Speaker  appeared  to  pull ;  but 
my  kind  Mentor  clapped  me  into  a  sort  of  lobby,  like  a  closet, 
in  the  door  of  which  was  a  pane  of  glass,  through  which  I  saw 
the  entire  performance  at  my  ease,  and  quite  by  myself.  Less 
fortunate  visitors  were  entirely  ejected,  and  then  the  members 
themselves  went  into  the  lobby,   and  so  passed  in   again,  their 


92  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

names  being  pricked  by  the  tellers  as  they  passed,  and  the  whole 
operation  taking  but  a  few  minutes.  The  Ministry  had  a  hand- 
some majority.  Before  the  House  rose  that  evening,  there  was 
another  division ;  and  it  so  happened  that  I  heard  most  of  the 
men  of  mark.  Sir  Charles  Wood,  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
Plume  and  Bright,  the  amusing  Colonel  Sibthorp,  and  the 
Milesian  Reynolds,  all  talked,  and  some  of  them  several  times. 
Mr.  Keogh  excited  the  significant  cry  of  oh,  oh,  with  laughter, 
and  made  some  sport  by  rejoining,  "  the  gentleman  may  cry  oh, 
but  still  it  is  true."  An  allusion  to  the  Scottish  Universities 
brought  Sir  Robert  Inglis  to  his  feet,  and  he  said  a  few  pertinent 
words,  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself  as  the  best  specimen  in 
the  House  of  a  true  English  gentleman  of  the  old  school.  Mr. 
Sidney  Herbert  spoke  in  a  handsome  manner,  and  Mr.  Gladstone 
also  made  a  very  spicy  little  speech,  which  seemed  to  annoy  his 
opponents  not  a  little.  The  House  sat  till  two  o'clock,  but  I 
finally  gave  it  up,  and  left  before  the  end.  As  I  came  out  into 
Old  Palace  Yard,  and  saw  the  towers  of  the  Abbey  in  the  still 
solemnity  of  the  night,  it  seemed  more  strikingly  majestic  than 
before.  I  thought  what  mighty  interests  of  Empires  had  been 
settled  here,  and  how  often  Chatham,  Burke,  and  Fox  and  Pitt, 
had  emerged  at  midnight  from  such  scenes  as  I  had  just  left, 
looking  on  the  same  towers,  beneath  which  they  now  moulder  in 
the  dust.  The  sombre  mass  of  the  Abbey  seemed  a  commentary 
on  the  hot  debates  from  which  I  was  retiring ;  a  speaking  moni- 
tor of  the  transient  interests  of  the  present,  and  of  the  eternal 
issues  of  futurity,  as  well  as  of  the  unchangeableness  of  the 
past. 

As  I  walked  slowly  to  my  lodgings,  I  passed  Whitehall.  Scarce 
any  one  was  in  the  street,  and  all  was  silence.  I  stopped,  and 
gazed  on  the  white  walls  of  the  Banqueting-room,  and  said  to 
myself,  '  how  strange  !  here  I  am  alone  on  this  most  memorable 
spot,  in  the  deep  and  solemn  night.  Can  it  be  that  here,  where 
all  is  now  so  quiet,  there  stood  two  hundred  years  ago  a  crowd 
of  human  beings,  every  one  of  whom  was  experiencing,  at  the 
moment,  emotions  the  most  singularly  mixed  and  tumultuous  that 
ever  agitated  the  human  soul?  Can  it  be  that  from  this  same 
white  wall  issued  the  figure  of  King  Charles,  and  that  there — 
just  there — he  knelt  at  the  block,  and  in  a  moment  was  a  head- 
less corpse  1  Even  so  !  Here  rose  that  groan  of  a  mighty  mul- 
titude, sighing  as  one  man,  and  there  the  ghastly  headsman  stood, 
holding  up  the  royal  head  by  its  anointed  locks,  and  crying — this 


THE  PAPAL  AGGRESSION.  98 

is  the  /lead  of  a  traitor/'  I  almost  turned  about  to  see  whether 
Cromwell's  troopers  were  not  charging  down  upon  me,  so  strong 
was  the  impression  of  the  spot ;  but  just  then,  the  sight  of  a  soli- 
tary policeman,  patrolling  beneath  a  gas-lamp,  recalled  me  to  my- 
self, and  I  fared  thoughtfully,  by  the  statue  at  Charing-Cross, 
towards  my  temporary  home. 

The  Papal  aggression  was  still,  in  spite  of  the  Crystal  Palace 
and  its  wonders,  an  absorbing  topic,  and  my  second  visit  to  the 
House  of  Commons  had  been  set  for  an  evening  when  a  debate 
upon  that  exciting  subject  was  to  be  part  of  the  entertainment. 
I  felt  sure  that  such  an  evening  in  the  House  would  be,  in  some 
measure,  an  historical  one,  and  might  be  useful  to  me  through 
life,  in  watching  the  course  of  religious  and  political  events. 
Besides,  I  wanted  to  hear  a  debate  that  should  enable  me  to  com- 
pare, by  its  unity  of  subject,  a  Parliament  of  Victoria,  with  those 
of  the  Plantagenets  and  Tudors.     I  had  my  desire. 

It  seems  impossible  for  the  American  mind  to  appreciate 
rightly  the  very  grave  injury  which  has  been  done  to  the  British 
nation  by  the  attempt  of  the  Papal  Court  to  erect  Episcopal 
Sees,  and  bestow  corresponding  titles  within  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  British  Church,  and  under  the  shadow  of  the  British  Crown. 
But  when  it  is  considered  that  the  Pope  has  thus  attempted  to 
exercise  a  power  to  which  he  could  never  have  aspired  even  when 
England  wore  his  yoke,  and  which  Avould  not  now  be  suffered  by 
any  Popish  sovereignty  in  Europe ;  when,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
outrage  to  the  Church  of  England,  the  direct  attempt  upon  the 
allegiance  of  subjects  is  considered,  and  its  bearings  upon  the 
future  are  duly  weighed :  no  well-informed  mind  can  hesitate  a 
moment  as  to  the  propriety  of  the  feelings  which  it  so  generally 
inflamed,  or  retain  any  other  astonishment,  than  a  profound  one, 
at  the  feebleness  and  utter  imbecility  of  the  measures  with  which 
the  advisers  of  the  greatest  Sovereign  in  existence  have  allowed 
her  to  meet  the  invasion.  It  was  not  a  moment  for  hesitation, 
or  for  consulting  economics ;  a  demand  should  have  been  made 
upon  the  Pontiff  for  an  immediate  alteration  of  his  attitude  to- 
wards England,  and  the  least  attempt  to  palter  on  his  part  should 
have  been  responded  to  by  a  British  fleet  off  Civita  Vecchia.  If 
France  was  an  obstacle  to  such  a  demonstration,  and  if  "  the 
peace  of  Europe"  must  be  kept  at  all  hazards, — even  the  hazard 
of  a  speedy  Armageddon  to  pay  for  it — if  such  be  the  England 
of  1850 — alas  for  the  extinction  of  the  England  of  1588  !  Is 
the  spirit  of  Elizabeth  past  revival  J 


94  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Since  1830,  the  whigs,  laboring,  as  Mr.  Macaulay  now  con- 
fesses, under  a  delusion  as  to  the  ameliorated  spirit  of  the  Papacy, 
have  gradually  advanced  the  Romanists  to  great  power  and  in- 
fluence. They  had  introduced  them  to  parliaments  ;  had  flatter- 
ed them  with  ecclesiastical  titles ;  and  unavailingly  tried  to 
propitiate  them  with  gifts.  Finally,  hoping  to  secure  the  Pope's 
aid  in  the  management  of  Ireland,  they  had  advanced,  step  by 
step,  to  a  point  from  which  they  could  not  recede,  and  at  which 
they  ventured  to  go  further,  and  actually  invite  him  to  the  daring 
encroachment,  which  to  their  horror  and  amazement,  set  all  Eng- 
land in  a  blaze.  At  every  step  of  this  infamous  and  foolish  com- 
promise with  Rome,  true  Churchmen  had  protested,  and  pleaded, 
and  struggled  in  vain ;  but  these  true  men  were  now  confounded 
in  the  disgrace  of  an  alarming  apostacy,  owing  to  a  popular  mis- 
apprehension, and  it  was  easy  to  turn  the  whole  fury  of  the  fire 
upon  them.  Lord  John,  detected  in  the  very  act  of  inviting  the 
Pope's  attempt,  had  the  cunning  to  point  at  them,  and  lay  it  on 
the  "  Tractarians."  The  trick  succeeded  :  the  Romanizers  were 
gratified,  for  they  wished  well  to  any  but  the  friends  of  a  Church 
which  they  meant  to  abandon  and  destroy ;  the  Evangelicals 
swelled  the  outcry,  which  brought  popular  gales  to  their  own 
canvass ;  and  the  Ministry  chuckled  behind  their  fingers.  The 
Romanists  were  triumphant,  since  they  had  the  Ministry  in  their 
power ;  and  the  only  real  sufferers  by  all  the  tumult  and  indigna- 
tion thus  aroused,  were  the  very  class  who  alone  had  contested 
every  inch  of  ground  with  Popery  and  the  Whigs,  from  the 
"Emancipation"  of  1829,  to  its  sequel  and  direct  consequence, 
the  "  Aggression,"  twenty  years  afterwards  ! 

Such  was  the  very  just  review  of  the  existing  question,  which 
in  different  ways  was  brought  before  the  House  on  the  evening  of 
the  ninth  of  May,  1851.  The  debate  was  on  a  motion  of  Mr. 
Urquhart,  to  the  effect  that  "  the  act  of  the  Pope  had  been 
encouraged  by  the  conduct  and  declarations  of  her  Majesty's 
Government ;  and  that  large  expectations  of  remedy  had  been 
stimulated  by  Lord  John's  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Durham,  which 
his  measures  had  entirely  disappointed."  The  member  pressed 
his  resolution  (offered  as  an  amendment  to  the  proposed  bill)  by  a 
reference  to  the  history  at  which  we  have  glanced,  and  by  calling 
to  mind  some  former  passages  in  the  political  life  of  the  Prime 
Minister,  which  it  could  scarcely  have  been  comfortable  for  him 
to  hear  just  at  that  moment.  Sir  George  Grey,  in  a  very  feeble 
speech,  replied  in  behalf  of  his  friend,  from  the  Treasury  bench, 


SIR   ROBERT   HARRY   IXGLIS.  95 

and  amused  himself  at  some  length,  at  the  expense  of  Mr.  Urquhart, 
without  really  affecting  his  argument.  Lord  John  Manners  re- 
torted with  not  a  little  force,  at  least  in  his  matter.  He  declared 
the  proposed  amendment  a  mere  truism,  and  yet  one  of  practical 
utility.  Lord  John  had  successfully  thrown  dust  in  the  eyes  of 
the  people.  Lord  Powis  and  Mr.  Dudley  Perceval  had  in  vain 
endeavored  to  place  the  truth  before  the  country.  Then  followed 
a  passage  of  pungency  and  truth.  ';  The  Prime  Minister,"  he 
said,  "  had  twice  encouraged  the  acts  against  which  his  puny  and 
delusive  legislation  was  now  directed ;  had  twice  defeated  the 
modest  attempt  of  the  Church  of  England  to  place  Bishops  of 
her  own  in  the  great  towns  now  occupied  by  the  Pope ;  had 
granted  to  Popish  Bishops,  in  all  the  Colonies,  precedence  over 
Anglican  Bishops ;  had  yielded  similar  favors  to  the  Romish  titu- 
laries in  Ireland ;  had  pertinaciously  resisted  the  fair  demands  of 
the  Irish  Church  for  Scriptural  Education ;  and  yet — after  a 
public  policy  which  had  been  one  unvaried  monotone  of  insult 
and  wrong  to  the  Church  of  England — had  contrived,  by  one 
magic  stroke  of  the  pen,  to  place  himself  before  the  country  as 
the  champion  of  English  Protestantism,  and  as  the  only  effectual 
antagonist  of  the  encroachments  of  the  Church  of  Rome."  A 
Romish  member  now  rose,  and,  while  opposing  the  amendment, 
paid  a  singular  tribute  to  its  truth.  "  He  was  not  the  man  to 
blame  the  noble  Lord  for  encouraging  the  Pope's  measures ;  but 
he  blamed  him  for  now  attempting  to  contend  with  the  direct 
consequences  of  his  own  flattering  policy."  After  a  rambling 
and  incoherent  speech,  of  tiresome  length,  from  a  Mr.  Stanford, 
who  supported  the  amendment.  Sir  Robert  Inglis  rose  and  oppos- 
ed it  with  characteristic  dignity,  and  with  that  grave  and  sober 
earnestness  which,  under  the  manifest  control  of  taste  and  judg- 
ment, seems  always  uppermost  in  all  his  utterances.  He  showed 
that,  if  the  amendment  were  passed,  it  would  defeat  the  bill. 
However  true,  therefore,  he  must  oppose  it,  because  the  bill 
was  all  that  the  Government  had  offered  to  do,  and  something 
must  be  done.  He  had  no  objection  to  calling  on  the  Govern- 
ment to  do  more ;  he  thought  that  Lord  John  might  fairly  be 
asked  to  meet,  in  full,  the  expectations  he  had  excited ;  but  he 
could  not  vote  for  an  amendment  which  would  effectually  pre- 
vent the  doing  of  anything  to  cany  out  the  just  wishes  of  the 
country. 

Sir  Robert,  during  his  remarks,  dropped  an  expression,  for  the 
first   time,  if  I   am  not  mistaken,  which  soon  became  familiar. 


yb  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

He  spoke  of  the  opposition  of  the  Irish  Brigade,  referring  to  the 
Romish  members  then  sitting,  and  voting  together,  with  an  ap- 
pearance of  complete  drill,  and  of  absolute  obedience  to  one 
command.  The  expression  was  repeated  as  a  quotation  by 
another  member,  and  raised  a  laugh,  as  something  freshly  caught 
up,  and  this  seemed  to  mark  it  as  a  hit.  Finally,  Mr.  Reynolds, 
the  apparent  leader  of  the  Brigade,  gave  it  complete  success  b 
replying  to  it.  Sir  Robert,  after  quietly  delivering  his  remark? 
had  walked  round  from  his  seat,  and  was  conversing  with  a 
friend,  (while  he  twirled  in  his  hand  a  rose,  that  he  had  taken 
from  his  button-hole,)  when  Mr.  Reynolds  stepped  into  his  place, 
with  a  sort  of  bog-trotting  movement,  and  facetiously  remarked 
that,  it  might  seem  strange  to  see  him  standing,  as  it  were,  in  the 
shoes  of  the  venerable  baronet,  who  had  just  called  him  and  his 
countrymen,  "  the  Irish  Brigade."  He  then  acknowledged  that 
they  were  banded  together  against  the  bill,  and  "  against  every 
other,  good  or  bad,  which  its  author  might  propose."  He  thus 
avowed  their  purpose,  to  throw  their  entire  force  against  the 
Government,  until  Lord  John  should  be  driven  out  of  power. 
He  then  went  on  with  Irish  volubility,  and  the  no  less  character- 
istic accent  of  the  Ratlander,  to  belabor  Lord  John's  bill.  He 
told  not  a  little  truth  :  called  it  "  sham  legislation  ;"  stuck  out  his 
finger  towards  the  Minister,  and  said,  "If  ye  pass  it,  ye  dare  not 
put  it  into  execution."  Here,  however,  he  gave  it  the  praise  of  be- 
ing quite  the  thing  for  its  purpose — "  a  cruel  and  persecuting 
measure — which,  as  such,  had  received  the  approbation  of  the 
Protestant  icatchdog  of  Oxford  University.''''  By  this  epithet,  signifi- 
cant of  high  fidelity,  but  not  intended  to  be  particularly  respect- 
ful, he  gave  Sir  Robert  a  Rowland  for  his  Oliver. 

The  residue  of  this  gentleman's  speech  was  amusing  enough, 
as  coming  from  a  Papist.  He  was  for  liberty  of  conscience ; 
couldn't  bear  to  think  of  religious  persecution ;  and,  as  for  the 
Queen,  she  had  no  subjects  in  the  world  that  could  compare  with 
her  Irish  subjects,  for  the  devoted  affection  with  which  they  re- 
garded her.  One  would  think  it  a  pity  that  such  homage  as  he 
professed  for  a  heretic  sovereign,  had  not  been  as  fashionable 
among  his  co-religionists  in  the  days  of  Guido  Fawkes,  or  of  the 
Spanish  Armada. 

At  last,  Lord  John  himself  rose  to  reply.  I  thought  of  the 
history  of  the  house  of  Bedford,  from  the  back-stairs  of  Henry 
VIII.,  when,  as  Burke  expresses  it,  "  the  lion  having  gorged  his 
share  of  the  Ecclesiastical  carcase,  flung  the  offal  to  his  jackal," 


DISRAELI.  97 

down  to  the  council-chamber  of  Victoria,  where  the  jackal  still 
waits  on  the  lion,  in  the  shape  of  this  insatiable  devourer  of  the 
Church's  bread,  and  not  less  insatiable  thirster  for  her  blood. 
How  should  he  dare  lift  up  his  voice  to  apologize  for  the  brand 
of  infamy  which  this  evening's  debate  had  stamped  upon  his 
career  as  a  Minister,  or  rather  which  it  merely  showed  to  have  been 
already  set  by  his  own  hands !  Forth  he  stepped,  like  himself 
alone,  and  with  the  same  pomposity  to  which  I  have  already 
adverted,  went  through  a  few  incantations,  which  ended  in  a 
fresh  transformation  of  the  diminutive  conjurer  before  us,  into  a 
most  earnest  "  deviser  of  securities  for  the  crown  and  the  nation." 
He  called  the  opposition  "mean  and  shabby" — for  such  courte- 
sies seem  to  be  the  seven  locks  of  a  rhetorical  Samson,  in  his 
conception — and  with  a  front  of  brass,  only  equalled  by  the 
audacity  of  his  imputations  upon  true  sons  of  the  Church  of 
England,  declared  "  there  had  been  nothing  in  the  conduct  of 
the  Government  which  had  a  tendency  to  provoke  the  aggres- 
sion." He  sat  down,  in  his  littleness,  and  was  instantly  pounced 
upon  by  Disraeli,  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  as  it  were 
by  a  hungry  terrier.  "  Is  it  a  fact,"  then,  said  he,  "  or  is  it  not, 
that  the  First  Minister  of  the  Crown  has  himself  in  this  House 
expressed  an  opinion,  that  he  saw  no  harm  in  liomish  Bishops  as- 
suming territorial  titles  in  this  realm  of  England  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  or  is 
it  not,  in  the  recollection  of  this  House,  and  in  the  burning  mem- 
ory of  this  country?  Is  it  a  fact,  or  is  it  not,  that  a  Secretary 
of  State,  in  another  place,  has  expressed  his  hope  that  Romish 
Bishops  would  soon  take  seats  as  Peers  of  Parliament  in  the 
House  of  Lords  ?  Is  it  a  fact,  or  is  it  not,  that  a  member  of  the 
Cabinet  has  been  sent  as  Plenipotentiary  to  Italy,  and  held  fre- 
quent and  encouraging  conversations  with  the  Pope  ?  Is  it  a 
fact,  or  is  it  not,  that  the  Pope  condescended  to  intimate  to  said 
Ambassador  his  gracious  purposes  to  do  something  that  might  affect 
England;  and  is  it  a  fact,  or  is  it  not,  that  the  Plenipotentiary 
thought  it  unnecessary  to  inquire  what  it  might  be  ?" 

Lord  John  here  rallied,  and  interrupted  the  speaker,  by  saying 
that  "  he  had  admitted  the  fact  of  a  report  that  the  Pope  said  so,  but 
had  also  stated  that  Lord  Minto  denied  having  heard  it."  Thus 
terrier  seemed  to  have  rat  in  his  fangs,  but  rat  could  still  show 
his  teeth  to  terrier.  It  was  the  first  impeachment  to  which  he 
had  ventured  any  reply ;  and,  by  replying  to  this,  he  convicted 
himself  of  the  more  grave  charges,  which  he  was  obliged  to  hear 
in  silence,  with  his  hat  slouched  down  over  his  criminal  features. 


98  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Who  can  feel  any  respect  for  an  English  patrician,  caught  in 
such  a  felony,  and  proved  as  truly  a  moral  delinquent,  on  a 
gigantic  scale,  as  ever  a  petty  thief  at  the  Old  Bailey  on  a  small 
one  ?  Oh  !  for  a  conscience  in  mankind  to  save  their  sympathy 
for  the  poor  wretch  in  the  bail-dock,  and  to  consign  to  merited 
infamy  the  titled  and  decorated  offender,  whose  crime  is  unfaith- 
ful stewardship  in  the  State,  and  treason  to  the  Crown  Imperial 
of  the  Most  High  God  !  I  have  no  abstract  prejudice  against  a 
peerage.  For  my  own  country  only  do  I  deprecate  the  idea  of 
an  aristocracy ;  but  what  are  patricians  worth,  if  they  cannot 
present  to  the  State,  in  which  they  are  an  organic  part,  a  high 
and  wholesome  example  of  integrity  and  honour  ?  In  my  heart, 
therefore,  as  I  looked  at  this  scion  of  the  house  of  Bedford  in 
his  moral  degradation,  I  felt — would  that  he  might  know  the 
unaffected  pity  with  which  a  republican  looks  at  him  from  this 
gallery,  as  a  man,  in  this  great  crisis  of  history,  false  to  his 
rank,  false  to  his  sovereign,  false  to  his  country,  and  false  to  his 
Redeemer. 

Mr.  Disraeli  paid  no  attention  to  his  disclaimers,  but,  as  it  werer 
buffeted  him  smartly  with  another  hit — "  Is  it  a  fact,  or  is  it  not, 
that  the  Vice-Royalty  of  Ireland  was  in  indirect  communication 
with  the  Pope,  and  expressed  affection  for  his  person,  and  rever- 
ence for  his  character  ?"  This  brought  out  enthusiastic  cheers ; 
and  Lord  John  tried  to  emerge  from  beneath  his  hat,  to  look 
contemptuous.  Ministers  had  a  small  majority.  But  Lord 
John  must  have  felt  that  his  time  was  coming,  while,  no  doubt, 
Mr.  Disraeli  began  to  draw  as  near  in  fancy,  to  the  envied  bench 
on  which  he  sat  so  little  at  ease.  The  latter  had  done  decidedly 
better  than  when  I  heard  him  before ;  but,  when  the  division 
was  taken,  I  could  not  but  say  to  myself — is  this  all  that  England's 
Senators  have  to  say  in  such  a  matter  %  I  felt  that  there  were 
few  of  them  alive  to  the  importance  of  the  thing  in  hand ;  and 
that  no  one  seemed  equal  to  the  support  of  old  England  in  con- 
sistency with  herself.  Was  this,  indeed,  the  Senate  in  which 
Burke  had  uttered  his  voice  %  Was  it  the  hall  in  which  Chatham 
had  rescued  from  the  last  disgrace  the  honour  of  his  country  % 
And  were  there  to  be  no  words,  like  his — burning  words — living 
words — immortal  words — to  prove  forever  that  England  took  not 
her  shame  in  abject  submission  !  At  least  no  such  words  were 
spoken.  There  was  not  even  a  John  of  Gaunt  there,  to  bewail 
the  disgrace  of  "  the  dear,  dear  isle," 

"  Dear  for  her  reputation  through  the  world  ;" 


THE  AGGRESSION-BILL.  99 

and,  notwithstanding  the  eminent  exceptions  to  the  remark,  I  said 
to  myself,  as  I  left  the  House  after  midnight — I  seem  to  have 
been  hearing  only  a  "  debate  in  the  Senate  of  Lilliput." 

It  seemed  strange,  before  I  sat  at  breakfast,  early  next  morning, 
to  take  up  the  Times,  and  read,  in  four  or  five  columns,  a  very 
tolerable  report  of  the  whole  proceedings,  and  many  of  the  words 
which  seemed,  even  then,  to  have  scarcely  ceased  to  sound  in  my 
ear.  I  cannot  but  add  the  remark,  that  it  is  a  great  pity  the 
amendment,  which  I  had  heard  debated,  failed  to  pass.  It  would 
have  loaded  Lord  John  with  the  full  consequences  of  his  own 
conduct,  and  it  would  have  saved  England  from  the  degradation 
of  enacting  a  law,  devised  as  a  mere  expedient,  and  which  affords 
to  the  enemy  the  darling  satisfaction  of  defying  it  with  impunity. 


CHAPTER    XIII 


The  House  of  Lords — Their  Lordships  in  Session. 

The  new  House  of  Lords  is  a  superb  specimen  of  modern  art ; 
and,  in  every  way,  is  worthy  of  the  hereditary  Senate  of  the 
British  Empire.  Perhaps  it  is  too  small  for  full  effect,  and  yet, 
if  larger,  it  would  hardly  answer  the  purposes  of  speaking  and 
hearing.  Its  dimensions,  however,  are  symbolical  of  its  charac- 
ter, as  intended  for  the  use  of  a  very  select  assembly ;  and  would 
seem  to  indicate,  moreover,  (to  copy  once  more  the  manner  of 
Fuller,)  that  the  Whigs  are  not  to  reign  forever,  seeing  that  if 
such  as  my  Lord  John  Russell  should  long  continue  in  power,  there 
would  need  be  built  a  much  larger  hall  to  contain  all  the  broken 
lawyers,  hack  politicians,  Popish  Bishops,  and  rich  Jews,  who 
might  justly  expect,  from  former  examples,  to  be  fitted  up  with 
coronets,  coats  of  arms,  and  patents  of  nobility.  The  like  idea 
seems  to  obtain,  moreover,  in  the  decorations  of  the  hall,  in 
which  History  is  artfully  blended  with  Religion  and  Chivalry ; 
implying,  if  my  republican  comprehension  can  rightly  interpret 
this  writing  on  the  wall,  that  to  be  a  true  patrician,  one  must 
have  historical  antecedents,  and  should  represent  some  great  fact 
in  the  annals  of  one's  country ;  and  that  such  antecedents,  to  be 
made  honourable  to  an  individual,  must  be  sustained  by  personal 
worth,  and  by  that  refined  and  sublimated  virtue  which  is  called 
honour.  Thus,  for  example,  a  Nelson  or  a  Wellington  is  a 
nobleman  by  the  historic  origin  of  his  family,  although  of  modern 
date ;  while,  with  respect  to  "  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Howards," 
it  is  equally  true,  that  if  devoid  of  corresponding  traits  of  mag- 
nanimity and  honesty,  its  degenerate  inheritor  is,  after  all,  only 
fit  to  be  hooted  at  as  a  poltroon  and  a  villain.  This  principle  I 
fully  understand,  American  as  I  am.  I  feel  that  something  is  due 
to  the  worthy  representative  of  a  name  illustrious  in  the  annals 


DECORATIONS.  101 

of  a  great  nation ;  but  your  mere  Lord  Moneybags,  or  the  spirit- 
less and  unprincipled  shadow  of  a  name  that  was  once  right- 
honourable,  are  creatures  with  whose  acquaintance  I  should  feel 
it  somewhat  discreditable  to  be  bored.  Every  man  who  has 
moral  worth,  and  who  respects  himself  accordingly,  must  enter- 
tain a  degree  of  honest  contempt  for  such  company,  somewhat 
akin  to  that  of  good  old  Johnson,  in  his  thread-bare  coat,  when 
he  wrote  his  inimitable  letter  to  Chesterfield. 

However,  their  Lordships'  House  !  There  is  the  Throne  ;  and 
I  defy  any  one  to  look  at  the  Throne  of  England  without  vener- 
ation. It  is  a  gorgeous  seat,  over  which  appear  the  royal  arms, 
while  on  its  right  and  left  are  seats  for  the  Prince  Consort  and 
the  Prince  of  Wales.  A  splendid  canopy  overhangs  the  dais  on 
which  these  seats  are  ranged,  and  the  dais  itself  is  covered  with 
a  carpet  of  "  scarlet  velvet  pile,  spotted  with  heraldic  lions  and 
roses."  The  ceiling  is  ribbed  with  massive  gilded  bands,  and 
richly  bossed  and  set  with  devices  in  all  the  colours  of  blazonry. 
Between  the  lofty  windows  are  niches  intended  to  receive  the 
bronze  statues  of  the  old  Magna  Charts  Barons,  while  the  win- 
dows themselves  are  filled  with  stained  glass,  commemorative  of 
the  Kings  and  Queens  of  England.  The  subordinate  ornaments 
and  furniture  are  all  in  keeping.  On  the  right  hand  of  the 
Throne,  are  the  seats  appropriate  to  the  Bishops,  where  the 
Church  "lifts  her  mitred  front"  before  the  Sovereign,  and  teaches 
her  by  whom  she  reigns,  and  how  she  may  execute  judgment. 
But  directly  in  front  of  the  Throne  is  the  woolsack,  covered  with 
red  cloth,  and  otherwise  made  suitable  to  ";  the  keeper  of  the 
Queen's  conscience,"  who  ordinarily  sits  thereon.  Before  this 
are  the  clerks'  table  and  seats,  and  then  the  bar ;  while  on  either 
hand  range  the  crimson  benches  of  the  Peers.  At  the  end  of  the 
hall  is  the  reporters'  and  strangers'  gallery,  of  very  small  dimen- 
sions, from  which,  however,  one  gets  the  best  view  of  the  whole 
interior,  and  of  the  striking  pictures  over  the  Throne.  These 
are  happily  chosen  as  to  subjects,  and  well  executed  as  frescoes. 
In  the  centre  is  the  Baptism  of  King  Ethelbert — the  symbol  of  a 
truly  Christian  realm :  on  one  side  is  the  Black  Prince  receiving 
the  Garter — a  symbol  of  genuine  chivalry  ;  and  on  the  other 
is  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  submitting  to  imprisonment  for  an 
assault  upon  Judge  Gascoigne — a  most  speaking  exhibition  of 
the  time-honoured  relations  subsisting  between  British  Royalty 
and  British  Law.  It  will  be  a  wholesome  thing  for  every  future 
Prince  of  Wales  to  look  at  this  picture,  before  he  presumes  to  sit 


102  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

down  under  it.     It  may  really  have  an  important  influence  in 
moulding  the  character  of  future  Kings.     God  grant  it  may ! 

In  surveying  this  splendid  apartment,  the  mind  naturally  goes 
forward,  since  it  presents  the  fancy  with  no  past  history.  What 
is  to  be  >its  future !  Is  this  House  to  be  the  scene  of  a  further 
development  of  vast  imperial  resources  ?  Is  it  to  be  graced  by  a 
perpetuated  aristocracy,  surviving  every  change  in  society  and  in 
arts,  by  the  force  of  their  own  character,  as  furnishing  a  high 
example  to  mankind  of  "  whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of 
good  report  f"  Is  this  roof  to  resound  with  the  voices  of  high- 
minded  men,  asserting  from  age  to  age  their  privilege  to  be  fore- 
most in  defence  of  religion  and  of  humanity,  and  to  do  and  to  suffer 
for  the  good  of  their  fellow-subjects,  and  the  welfare  of  mankind  ? 
Is  the  British  Peerage  to  grow  brighter  with  high  moral  qualities, 
than  with  hereditary  honours,  and  to  be  cherished  by  an  en- 
lightened spirit  of  public  virtue  as  a  standard  of  all  that  is 
honourable,  and  as  a  pattern  of  what  is  most  excellent  in  the 
ideal  of  the  true  Christian  gentleman?  Or  must  the  sad  reverse 
be  true,  and  must  this  House  be  the  scene  of  the  last  act  in  the 
eventful  history  of  England  ?  Shall  a  factitious  nobility  be 
crowded  into  these  chief  seats  of  the  realm ;  men  devoid  of 
ennobling  antecedents,  and  not  less  so  of  honour  and  of 
worth  ?  Shall  the  decay  of  a  mighty  Empire  be  marked  by  such 
a  House  of  Lords  as  may  facilitate  the  plans  of  the  demagogue, 
sinking  the  Sovereign  to  a  Doge,  and  the  Church  to  a  State 
hireling,  and  giving  to  the  Commons  the  unrestrained  privilege  of 
revolution  and  anarchy?  These  are  questions  which  a  well- 
wisher  to  the  British  Empire  cannot  but  suggest,  in  view  of 
events  which  have  lately  taken  place  ;  and  especially  in  view  of  the 
fact,  that  the  House  of  Lords  has  not  unfrequently  of  late  suffered 
itself  to  be  disgraced  by  breaches  of  Christian  courtesy,  not  to 
say  of  common  decency,  which,  if  multiplied  in  such  a  conspicu- 
ous place,  must  tend  to  barbarize  the  world.  Let  us  hear  no 
more  of  disgraceful  scenes  in  the  American  Congress,  till  heredi- 
tary noblemen,  who  have  little  else  to  do,  can  furnish  mankind 
with  a  wholesome  example  of  high  legislative  decorum  !  For 
unless  noblemen  will  reflect  upon  their  position,  and  act  upon 
convictions  cf  what  is  necessary  to  the  credit  of  their  rank,  in  a 
day  when  true  gentlemen  are  by  no  means  rare,  outside  their  glit- 
tering circle,  and  even  among  plain  republicans,  they  must  not 
wonder  if  they  too  should  become  as  a  worn-out  form,  or  an  ex- 
ploded theory.     Who  knows  how  soon  this  superb  hall  of  legisla- 


THE  ARISTOCRACY.  103 

tlon  may  be  exhibited  as  the  chief  memorial  of  their  existence  ? 
If  the  British  Peerage  proves  untrue  to  the  Church  of  England, 
and  degrades  itself  to  the  bare  responding  of  an  Amen  to  every 
momentary  Credo  of  Ministers  and  Commons,  what  use  of  such 
machinery  !  This  palace  shall  be  even  as  those  of  Venice.  This 
gorgeous  interior  shall  be  kept  under  the  key  of  the  mere  cicerone, 
and  shown  as  a  thing  of  the  past  to  the  staring  traveller,  as  ho 
marvels  over  tarnished  gilding  and  faded  damask,  and  at  every 
tread  disturbs  the  dnst  upon  its  floor,  or  breaks  through  cobwebs 
dangling  from  its  ceiling. 

When  one  sees,  in  the  writings  of  such  a  man  as  Dr.  Arnold, 
confessions  of  annoyance,  if  not  of  a  sense  of  injury,  from  the 
existence  of  a  privileged  class,  to  which  merit  must  constantly 
give  way,  where  otherwise  it  would  be  entitled  to  precedence ; 
and  when  one  discovers,  even  in  the  highest  seats  of  British  in- 
tellecl  and  piety,  a  certain  deference  to  mere  rank,  which  seems 
humiliating;  and  when  one  finds  something  of  the  spirit  of  tuft- 
hunting  diffused  through  all  classes  alike,  from  the  Toiy  school- 
boy to  the  Whig  Bishop ;  one  feels  indeed  that  there  may  be 
arguments  against  the  aristocratic  clement  in  society,  which  have 
never  been  stated  in  their  list  of  grievances  by  political  agitators. 
But,  after  all,  in  an  old  country  like  England,  the  aristocracy 
exists,  and  there  is  no  destroying  it  without  destroying  the  nation. 
The  infernal  guillotine  itself  cannot  wholly  make  way  with  it.  afl 
France  has  learned  to  its  sorrow.  What  then  ?  It  must  be 
modified  and  perpetuated.  It  must  be  purified,  and  worked  in 
With  society,  as  its  ornament,  but  not  its  fabric.  This  is  what  is 
done  already  in  England.  The  nobility,  the  clergy,  the  gentry, 
the  literati,  the  professional  classes,  and  then  the  people — after 
all.  in  England  they  are  one  ;  ••  shade  unperceived  and  softening 
into  shade.''  and  joined  and  knit  together  by  habits,  tastes,  alli- 
ances, and  interests,  in  a  wonderful  order.  Much  yet  remains  to 
be  done,  and  will  be  done,  to  smooth  down  remaining  asperities 
between  rank  and  rank  ;  but  the  British  aristocracy  may  be  said, 
even  now,  to  be  a  genuine  one,  identified  with  everything  great 
and  good  in  the  nation,  and.  on  the  whole,  presenting  a  whole- 
some example  to  other  classes  in  the  State.  In  all  probability, 
so  virtuous  an  aristocracy  has  never  been  seen  elsewhere  among 
mankind.  Among  them  may  be  found  specimens  of  human 
nature,  whose  physical  and  mental  endowments,  together  with 
their  moral  worth,  and  intellectual  accomplishments,  entitle  them 
to  the  highest  admiration  of  their  fellow-men.     We  are  too  well 


104  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

aware  that  side  by  side  with  such,  may  sit,  adorned  with  equal 
rank  and  titles,  some  wretch,  whose  coronet  has  been  purchased 
by  infamy,  and  whose  hereditary  decorations  are  but  the  mockery 
of  a  character,  every  way  pestilent  and  detestable.  The  English 
themselves  are  used  to  it ;  but  it  strikes  a  republican  with  amaze- 
ment that  such  creatures  should  be  noble,  even  "by  courtesy." 

To  see  the  House,  as  I  saw  it  first,  empty,  and  for  the  sake  of 
its  architecture  and  decoration,  one  gets  a  ticket  by  applying  at 
the  adjoining  office  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  on  specified  days. 
To  attend  the  sessions  of  the  House  of  Lords,  one  must  possess 
an  autograph  order  by  a  Peer.  With  this  I  was  kindly  supplied, 
not  only  for  one  night,  but  for  four ;  the  orders  being  given  me 
in  blanks,  which  I  was  permitted  to  fill  with  any  dates  that 
might  best  suit  my  convenience.  It  so  happened  that  little  was 
going  on  in  the  House  of  Lords  while  I  was  in  London,  and  I 
did  not  see  it  to  advantage.  As  I  heard  several  of  its  most  emi- 
nent members  elsewhere,  however,  and  frequently  met  with  them 
in  society,  I  had  less  to  regret  than  would  otherwise  have  been  the 
case.  In  the  House  itself,  I  saw  enough  to  familiarize  me  with 
its  appearance  and  manners,  and  the  rest  is  easily  imagined, 
when  one  has  before  him  the  Times'  report  of  any  particular 
scene. 

Lord  Truro,  sitting  on  the  woolsack,  was  the  first  object  that 
struck  me  on  entering — and  it  was  by  no  means  a  majestic  one. 
He  is  a  Russell  Chancellor,  and  of  course  no  Clarendon.  Shades 
of  Somers  and  of  Eldon,  what  a  figure  I  saw  in  your  old  seat ! 
The  sight  of  the  Bishops,  in  their  robes,  with  the  old  Primate,  in 
his  wig,  reminded  me  of  Chatham's  appeal  to  "  that  right  rever- 
end bench,  and  the  unsullied  purity  of  their  lawn."  Their  Lord- 
ships were  few  in  number,  and  among  them  the  Bishop  of  Oxford 
was  the  man  of  mark.  I  doubt  if  he  has  his  equal  in  the  House 
for  "  thoughts  that  breathe  and  words  that  burn."  The  Lords 
temporal  were  lounging  about  their  benches,  hats  on  or  off,  as 
chanced  to  be,  and  what  little  speaking  I  heard,  was  by  no  means 
such  as  to  rouse  them  to  particular  attention.  A  hesitating,  stut- 
tering, and  very  awkward  utterance  would  even  seem  to  be  the 
fashion  in  this  noble  House.  I  looked  in  vain  for  Lord  Brougham, 
not  because  I  have  any  great  respect  for  him,  but  because  one 
may  be  pardoned  for  trying  to  see  such  a  curiosity,  when  it  is, 
possibly,  just  under  one's  nose.  He  has  been  vastly  over-rated, 
and  will  soon  be  forgotten.  In  general,  their  Lordships  looked 
like  well-bred  gentlemen,  and  there  was  about  them  a  certain  air 


THE   POLICE.  105 

of  travel  and  of  finish,  which  marks  the  habituated  man  of  the 
world.  Some  of  them  were  plainly  dressed,  but  others  were 
evidently  men  of  fashion.  One  thing  they  ought  to  know  and 
feel,  and  that  is — that  much  is  given  them,  and  much  will  be  re- 
quired of  them.  No  doubt  every  position  has  its  qualifying  dis- 
advantages and  trials ;  yet  it  must  be  allowed  that  no  station  in 
which  a  human  being  can  find  himself  placed  by  his  Creator, 
affords  so  many  advantages,  at  the  very  outset,  for  usefulness  and 
happiness  in  life,  as  that  of  a  young  English  Peer  of  competent 
fortune  and  sound  mind,  with  a  healthful  body,  and  a  good  educa- 
tion. What  a  hint  for  such  a  man  is  that  challenge  of  nature's 
own  nobleman,  St.  Paul — Who  maketh  thee  to  differ  from  another, 
and  what  hast  thou  that  thou  didst  not  receive  ? 

An  incident  which  created  some  excitement  in  fashionable  cir- 
cles, shortly  after  the  opening  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  will  illus- 
trate one  feature  of  British  civilization  which  will  not  be  out  of 
place  in  connection  with  these  remarks  on  the  aristocracy. 
Everybody  has  heard  of  the  London  Police,  their  admirable  drill, 
and  great  efficiency.  Their  impartial  enforcement  of  the  rules 
of  the  Great  Exhibition  was  peculiarly  illustrative  of  these 
characteristics,  and  also  of  the  spirit  of  law  and  order,  as  para- 
mount and  inflexible  in  the  Metropolis.  No  departure  from  these 
rules  was  allowed  to  any  one ;  and  carriage  after  carriage,  all 
blazing  with  heraldic  splendours,  and  filled  with  rank,  and  beauty, 
was  forced  to  change  its  route  by  the  simple  waving  of  a  police- 
man's finger.     It  so  happened  that  a  dashing  young  fellow,  a  scion 

of  the  noble  house  of  S ,  driving  his  own  equipage  through 

Hyde  Park,  ventured  to  disobey.  On  this  the  policeman  seized 
the  horse's  head,  and  backed  him.  The  hot-blooded  Jehu  in- 
stantly raised  his  whip,  and  struck  the  policeman  several  violent 
blows  over  the  face  and  head.  The  result  was  his  immediate  ar- 
rest ;  and  on  being  carried  before  the  Magistrate,  young  S 

found  himself  committed  for  ten  days  imprisonment,  which  he 
accordingly  fulfilled  with  exemplary  submission,  wearing  jail- 
clothes,  and  performing  sundry  penances,  precisely  as  if  he  had 
been  the  humblest  offender  in  the  land.  On  the  same  day  that 
this  happened,  a  cabman  whom  I  had  engaged  to  take  me,  in  a 
hurry,  to  a  certain  part  of  the  town,  drove  me  rapidly  through 
St.  James's  Park,  and  was  just  making  his  escape  into  the  street, 
near  Buckingham  Palace,  when  he  was  stopped,  in  the  gate,  by  a 
policeman,  and  ordered  instantly  back,  with  a  threat  of  severe 
punishment  should  he  again  trespass  where  he  knew  that  only 

5* 


106  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

private  carriages  were  admitted.  As  my  time  was  precious,  I 
ventured  to  interpose,  and  exhausted  every  art,  in  vain,  to  induce 
the  inexorable  policeman  to  allow  the  cab  to  pass  on.  He  little 
knew  my  sincere  respect  for  him,  and  the  real  satisfaction  I  took 
in  thus  finding  him  "  a  brick  for  his  principles."  Finally,  I 
offered  to  alight,  and  discharge  the  cabman  there ;  but  this  also 
the  policeman  respectfully  forbade.  ;'  It  would  never  do,"  he 
said,  "  to  allow  cabmen  to  take  such  liberties ;  the  cab  must  go 
back ;"  but  then  he  advised  me  not  to  pay  the  fellow  a  single 
penny,  as  he  was  not  entitled  to  anything  but  an  arrest,  for  ex- 
emption from  which  he  might  be  thankful.  I  was  exceedingly 
annoyed,  in  spite  of  my  admiration  for  authority,  but  thought  it 
best  to  submit  without  further  parley.     Next  day  I  heard  of  the 

fate  of  the  Honorable  Mr.  S ,  and,  on  the  whole,  felt  glad 

that  I  had  got  off  so  easily.  Thus  it  seems  that  law  is  law  in 
London,  for  all  classes  alike ;  and  if  the  stranger,  in  his  cab,  is 
not  permitted  to  violate  it,  he  may  at  least  console  himself  with 
the  fact  that  he  would  fare  no  better  if  he  were  a  home-born 
aristocrat  in  a  dashing  tilbury.  It  is  this  well-defined  system  of 
society,  in  which  every  man  knows  his  rights,  and  where  even 
privilege  is  limited,  and  as  absolutely  held  in  check  as  license, 
that  makes  even  humble  life  in  England,  in  spite  of  all  its  bur- 
dens, a  life  of  liberty  and  contentment.  Theoretical  equality 
may  exist  with  far  less  of  real  independence,  and  we  who  value 
ourselves  on  self-government,  are  perhaps  in  danger  of  finding 
ourselves  without  government,  and  too  jealous  of  authority  to 
submit  even  to  law 


CHAPTEE    XIV. 


St.  Mary's,  Lambeth — Temple — SL  PauVs — Tunnel. 

Tjme  never  need  hang  heavily  on  one's  hands  in  London.  A 
stroll  in  the  Parks  is  an  unfailing  resource  in  fair  weather :  when 
it  was  wet.  I  used  to  take  refuge  under  cover  of  some  exhibition. 
The  National  Gallery,  in  Trafalgar  Square,  and  the  Vernon  Gal- 
lery, gratuitously  opened  to  the  public,  in  Marlborough  House, 
were  quite  a  resource ;  although  the  annual  show  of  pictures  in 
the  former  was  nothing  extraordinary.  The  portrait  of  Dr. 
Wiseman  was  displayed  there,  and  a  sight  of  it  cured  me  of  all 
curiosity  to  see  more  of  him.  Its  coarse  and  sensual  effect 
afforded  a  very  striking  contrast  to  the  refined  and  intellectual 
head  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  which  was  hung  vis-a-vis,  perhaps 
not  without  design.  But  of  pictures  I  do  not  propose  to  speak 
particularly. 

In  the  cool  of  a  charming  May  morning  I  sauntered  forth,  and 
crossed  AVe-tminster  Bridge.  It  was  too  late  for  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  Wordsworth's  emotions,  on  that  thoroughfare,  for  already 
the  city  was  astir ;  and  yet  there  was  enough  in  the  scene  it  com- 
manded to  make  one  stop  a  few  moments  and  conjure  up  the 
imagery  of  his  inimitable  sonnet : — 

"  Ships,  towers,  domes,  theatres  and  temples  lie 
All  bright  and  glittering  in  the  smokeless  air  ! 

Ne*er  saw  I,  never  felt,  a  calm  so  deep : 
The  river  glideth  at  his  own  sweet  will ; 

Dear  God  !  the  very  houses  seem  asleep, 
And  all  that  mighty  heart  is  lying  still  !*' 

So  I  passed  on  to  Lambeth,  and  came  by  Bishop's  Walk,  under 
the  walls  of  the  Archbishop's  gardens,  to  Morning  Prayer  at  St. 
Mary's.     It  was  here,  under  the  shadow  of  this  Church,  that  the 


108  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

poor  Queen  of  James,  the  Runagate,  stood  shivering  on  a  stormy 
night,  with  her  unfortunate  little  babe  packed  up  in  a  basket, 
awaiting  a  start  to  France.  Had  the  baby  only  cried,  how  dif- 
ferent might  have  been  the  history  of  the  British  Crown  and 
nation  !  A  great  many  Scotchmen  would  have  lived  quietly 
through  the  greater  part  of  the  succeeding  century,  who  (as  the 
baby  slept  soundly)  were  only  born  to  be  hanged,  shot,  and  be- 
headed; and  then,  in  all  probability,  we  should  have  had  no 
"Waverley  novels  !  However,  I  now  found  the  Church  a  ruin ; 
only  its  tower  standing,  and  a  bit  of  the  chancel,  while  the  re- 
building was  going  bravely  on.  But  I  am  glad  to  say  that  the 
daily  service  was  not  therefore  interrupted.  The  chancel  was 
roughly  boarded  up,  and  protected  from  the  weather,  and  there  a 
good  congregation  was  at  prayer  when  I  entered,  two  curates 
officiating.  I  was  rejoiced  to  worship  there,  in  such  a  primitive 
way.  The  bones  of  the  brave  old  primate  Bancroft,  and  of  good 
Archbishop  Tenison  Avere  beneath  us  as  we  knelt ;  and  the  meek 
Seeker  reposes  hard  by. 

After  breakfast,  at  the  Rectory,  in  a  room  overlooking  the 
archiepiscopal  grounds,  I  went  to  the  river,  and  hunted  up  one 
of  those  deposed  and  antiquated  things — a  wherry,  resolved  to  go 
by  water,  in  the  old  fashioned  way,  from  Lambeth  to  the  Temple. 
Now,  then,  I  was  legitimately  afloat  upon  "  the  silent  highway," 
only  that  the  hideous  little  steamers  would  destroy  my  anti- 
modern  imaginations,  as  they  paddled  triumphantly  by.  I  was 
trying  to  imagine  myself  in  the  primate's  barge,  with  Cranmer  or 
with  Laud ;  or  again,  as  I  "  shot  the  bridge,  with  its  roar  of 
waters,"  I  conjured  up  the  day  when  Dryden,  with  his  fashiona- 
ble companions,  took  water,  that  they  might  the  better  hear  the 
distant  guns,  by  which  they  knew  "  the  fleet,  under  his  Royal 
Highness,  was  then  engaging  the  Dutch  upon  the  coast,  and  that 
a  great  event  was  then  deciding."  All !  it  was  the  poetry  of  the 
Thames  to  go  upon  it  with  oars,  and  to  hear  the  waterman 
lament  the  degenerate  days  of  steam ;  or  to  draw  out  his  Allegro 
by  questions  about  the  "  champion  of  the  river,"  and  the  great 
rowing  match  soon  to  come  oft",  to  the  probable  discomfiture  of  that 
hero's  further  claims  to  that  dignity.  The  salt  talked  very  bad  dry 
English,  but  his  ivet  vocabulary  was  truly  rich ;  and  I  left  his 
boat  at  Blackfriars  Bridge,  with  a  sort  of  feeling  that,  instead  of 
a  few  paltry  shillings  he  had  earned  by  his  conduct  on  the  voy- 
age, the  not  unusual  compliment  to  affable  sea-captains,  of  "  a 
vote  of  thanks,  and  a  piece  of  plate." 


TEMPLE    GARDENS.  109 

I  now  went  to  the  Temple  Gardens,  where,  according  to  great 
"Will,  began  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster,  by  the  plucking  of 
the  two  roses ;  and,  for  a  while,  I  sauntered  about  those  pleasant 
walks,  in  the  company  of  one  of  the  benchers,  feeling  very  much 
as  if  I  had  found  a  little  Oxford  on  the  margin  of  the  Thames. 
After  a  subsequent  visit  to  the  room  which  Dr.  Johnson  once  in- 
habited, and  sauntering  through  courts  and  alleys,  where  one  sees 
many  a  celebrated  name  painted  over  a  door,  as  a  business  sign, 
we  entered  the  Temple  Church.  Great  restorations  have  been 
made  here  of  late,  at  an  immense  expense,  and  generally  in  good 
taste  and  on  correct  principles,  save  that  unsightly  seats,  too 
much  like  pews,  encumber  the  space  in  front  of  the  altar,  which 
ought  to  be  entirely  open.  What  a  reverend  old  Church  ;  built 
in  the  twelfth  century  by  Crusaders,  and  consecrated  by  a 
Patriarch  of  Jerusalem !  Under  its  walls,  inside,  lies  Selden, 
and  outside,  lies  Oliver  Goldsmith ;  but,  to  me,  its  most  sacred 
interest  is  the  fact,  that  here  the  immortal  Hooker  erected  those 
noble  defences  of  the  Church  of  England  which  broke  the  rising 
tide  of  Puritanism,  and  ultimately  saved  us  from  its  floods.  Here 
that  great  -"  Master  of  the  Temple,"  while  his  inmost  soul  was 
panting  for  a  quiet  country  cure,  bore  patiently  the  heat  and 
burthen  of  the  day,  in  wearisome  conflict  with  the  dogged  Tra- 
vers,  who  could  always  preach  "  Geneva  in  the  afternoon,  against 
the  morning  Canterbimj."  On  entering  "  the  Round,"  you  are 
struck  with  its  venerable  effect,  heightened  by  the  fine  figures  of 
the  old  Templars,  stretched,  cross-legged,  upon  the  floor.  These 
figures  were  sadly  mutilated,  but  have  been  admirably  restored. 
The  Pound  is  free  from  pewing,  and  opens  into  the  choir,  where 
the  benchers'  stalls  are  ranged  on  either  hand.  The  two  societies 
of  the  Middle  and  Inner  Temple  worship  here  together,  and  their 
respective  arms — a  Pegasus  and  a  Lamb — are  interchanged  in 
the  showy  decorations  of  the  vaulting. 

I  ascended  into  the  triforia  by  a  cork-screw  staircase,  pausing 
to  enter  the  famous  Penitential  Cell — a  dismal  hole  in  the  wall, 
in  which  a  refractory  Templar  was  sometimes  confined,  but 
which  offered  him  the  consolations  of  religion,  by  means  of  a 
hagioscope,  or  slit  in  the  masonry,  through  which  he  could  see 
the  altar  of  the  Church,  and  join  in  the  devotions  of  his  breth- 
ren— though  it  may  be  feared  he  more  generally  responded  to 
their  chant  with  anything  but  benediction.  In  the  triforia  are 
happily  preserved  all  the  monuments  which  lately  disfigured  the 
walls  below :  and  so  set  are  the  benchers  against  any  renewing  of 


110  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

a  bad  example,  that  I  was  told  they  had  resisted  the  erection  of 
even  Hooker's  bust  in  the  choir.  This  I  was  sorry  to  hear,  as 
one  really  felt  the  want  of  it  on  looking  about  the  walls  which 
once  reflected  the  sounds  of  his  earnest  and  persuasive  voice. 
And  what  was  my  surprise,  on  my  next  visit,  to  find  a  workman 
setting  it  there,  just  as  it  should  be  !  It  was  covered.  I  begged 
him  to  let  me  see  it.  '  Honour  to  thy  old  square  cap,  thou 
venerable  and  judicious  Richard,'  said  my  inmost  heart,  as  the 
well-known  features  emerged  in  all  their  dignity;  and  then  I 
asked  if  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  the  very  first  to  salute  it. 
The  workman,  who  was  the  sculptor  himself,  assured  me  that  I 
was.  '  It  is  well,'  I  answered,  '  that  an  American  clergyman 
should  have  the  privilege.  We  know  how  to  value  in  America 
the  great  defender  of  Law  and  of  Religion,  and  much  as  England 
owes  to  Hooker,  America  owes  infinitely  more,  or  will  do  so 
when  the  Church  shall  have  proved  herself,  as  she  will  in  the  end, 
the  salvation  of  the  Republic' 

Under  the  roof  of  the  Middle  Temple  Hall,  where  the  bench- 
ers, barristers  and  students  still  dine  together,  was  first  acted  on 
Twelfth  night,  1602,  Shakspeare's  play,  so  called.  A  visit  to  that 
noble  hall,  and  a  sight  of  its  celebrated  equestrian  Charles  First, 
by  Vandyck,  gave  me  great  delight.  There  are  also  several  other 
royal  portraits,  and  many  heraldic  memorials  of  the  great  historic 
lawyers  avIio  once  "ate  their  terms"  within  its  walls.  The  hall 
of  the  Inner  Temple  is  less  striking,  but  of  similar  character. 
One  wonders  what  future  Lord  Chancellor  sits  daily  at  these 
boards,  among  the  students.  But  in  the  Inner  Temple,  I  thought 
chiefly  of  that  gentle  Templar,  more  gentle  than  its  armorial 
Lamb,  who  once  sat  with  them,  the  author  of  "  the  Task." 

My  next  visit  was  an  ambitious  one.  I  spent  an  hour,  or  so, 
in  climbing  to  the  ball  of  St.  Paul's,  within  which,  of  course,  I 
ensconsed  myself,  and  indulged  in  very  sublime  reflections.  The 
fact  is,  however,  that  it  was  very  hot,  and  when  some  half  dozen 
cockneys  had  wedged  themselves  in,  after  me,  I  verily  thought 
the  chances  lay  between  smothering  and  being  toppled  down  in  a 
lump  into  the  street  (400  feet  below)  like  a  big  pippin ;  for  the 
ball  shook  and  trembled  upon  the  rods  which  support  it,  in  a 
•manner  by  no  means  soothing  to  excitable  nerves.  I  was  glad  when 
1  got  safely  back  to  the  "  Golden  Gallery,"  and  could  cool  myself, 
and  look  down  on  the  roofs  and  chimneys  of  the  million  at  one 
glance.  Here  is  your  true  view  of  London  !  Here  that  "  mighty 
heart"  is  seen,  and  felt,  and  heard  in  its  throbbings.     Here  a 


BANNERS   FOR  TOKENS.  Ill 

thoughtful  man  finds  food  for  reflection,  and  a  benevolent  one  for 
interceding  prayer.  Oh,  God !  to  think  of  the  life  and  death, 
the  joy  and  misery,  the  innocence  and  the  guilt,  and  all  the  mixed 
and  mingled  passions,  emotions,  thoughts,  and  deeds  which  are 
going  on  beneath  these  roofs,  along  those  labyrinthine  streets,  and 
alleys,  and  in  all  this  circuit  of  miles  and  miles,  and  close-packed 
human  beings!  God  alone  understands  the  issues  there  de- 
ciding: it  is  too  much  for  one  to  dwell  upon  a  single  mo- 
ment ;  but,  thank  God  for  the  assurance  that  "  He  remembereth 
that  we  are  but  dust :"  yea,  thank  God,  for  a  Saviour  and 
an  High  Priest,  who  can  be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  human 
infirmities  ! 

In  the  successive  stages  of  mounting  to  the  ball,  one  passes,  of 
course,  many  objects  of  interest.  The  original  model  of  St. 
Paul's  is  well  worthy  of  inspection,  as  conveying  Wren's  own 
ideal  of  the  cathedral.  He  was  bo  attached  to  it,  that  he  cried 
when  forced  to  depart  from  it;  but  it  strikes  me  as  greatly  in- 
ferior to  the  actual  design.  Jt  might  better  suit  the  dilettanti,  but 
except  in  the  unreality  of  the  second  story,  which  is  a  mere 
screen  to  the  roofing  and  buttresses.  I  can  see  nothing  to  regret 
in  the  substitution.  The  model  room  i-  also  the  depository  of 
sundry  old  and  tattered  Hags,  which,  after  escaping  "the  thunder 
of  the  captains,  and  the  shouting-."  were  formerly  suspended  in 
the  dome.  It  was  fashionable  to  say  that  they  desecrated  it — « 
but  why  so  ?  The  God  of  battles  and  the  Prince  of  Peace  are 
one :  and  I  can  see  no  reason  why  the  flags  of  Waterloo  should 
not  be  hung  up  before  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  in  His  Holy  Temple. 
The  question  is  merely  one  of  taste ;  but  the  flags  may  be  as  well 
considered  as  tokens  of  peace,  as  trophies  of  war ;  and  why 
should  not  the  providence  of  God,  as  the  giver  of  all  victory,  be 
thus  recognized,  by  a  significant  acknowledgment,  that  to  Him, 
and  not  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  for  example,  we  owe  the 
general  peace  which  has  for  so  long  a  period  blessed  the  world, 
since  the  overthrow  of  Napoleon  ?  It  is  a  sublime  association 
with  this  cathedral,  that  it  was  first  used  for  Divine  Service  in 
celebrating  the  Peace  of  Ryswick,  which,  with  all  its  faults,  has 
secured  to  England  inestimable  blessings :  and,  perhaps  the  vir- 
tual appeal  to  God,  which  is  made  by  connecting  His  awful 
name  with  the  awful  issues  of  battles,  may  have  a  happy  ef- 
fect on  the  national  conscience.  It  may  make  men  afraid  of 
mere  wars  of  ambition ;  may  keep  in  view  the  fact,  that  peace 
only  should  be  the  end  of  conflict ;    and  may  also   correct  the 


112  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

sentimentalism  which  fails  to  see  that  war  may  sometimes  be 
a  just  and  a  holy  exertion  of  that  magistracy  with  which  God 
has  girded  the  loins  of  rulers,  and  for  which  they  are  respon- 
sible to  Him  who  commands  them  not  to  "  wear  the  sword  in 
vain." 

The  Library  is  a  place  of  little  interest  to  one  who  has  but 
little  time.  You  look  with  reverence  at  the  great  bell,  which 
thunders  out  the  death  of  time  from  hour  to  hour,  and  only  tolls 
when  a  Prince's  departure,  or  that  of  some  great  ecclesiastic,  is 
to  be  announced  to  the  nation.  The  vastness  of  the  clock  and 
its  dial,  give  you  fresh  impressions  of  the  enormous  scale  of  every- 
thing about  you,  and  the  Whispering  Gallery  is  reached  with  a 
sense  of  fatigue,  which  quite  accords  with  this  effect.  Here  a 
bore  of  a  fellow  shows  off  the  petty  experiment  of  the  whisper, 
and  stuns  you  by  slamming  a  door ;  after  which  you  are  vexed  to 
find  that  the  paintings  of  the  dome  have  disappeared  under  the 
humid  influences  of  the  London  climate.  It  is  only  when  these 
first  annoyances  are  over,  that  you  regain  entire  command  of 
your  thoughts,  and  are  able  to  measure  "  the  length  and  breadth, 
and  depth  and  height,"  of  the  noble  dome  within  whose  concavity 
you  are  now  walking  about,  and  perchance  listening  to  the  glorious 
swell  of  the  organ  below.  The  architecture  of  this  dome  becomes 
easily  understood,  as  one  ascends  between  its  inner  and  outer  sur- 
faces, and  one  cannot  but  regret  to  find  that  the  former  is  so 
vastly  disproportioned  to  the  latter.  Here  the  triumph  of  Michael 
Angelo,  and  the  one  grand  superiority  of  St.  Peter's,  begins  to  be 
powerfully  felt.  Wren  has  constructed  his  dome  prosaically ;  the 
rhetoric  and  the  poetry  of  architecture  are  sublimely  displayed 
in  the  work  of  the  mighty  Florentine. 

During  the  ascent,  you  emerge  from  time  to  time  to  open  air, 
and  get  external  views  from  the  successive  galleries.  London 
chimneys  are,  at  first,  below  you,  and  then  the  steeples,  and  then 
even  its  canopy  of  smoke  and  vapour ;  and  all  its  mingling  sounds 
come  to  your  ear  at  last  like  the  murmur  of  the  sea.  "  How 
dizzy  'tis  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low."  The  elevation  is  indeed 
considerable ;  but  with  such  a  Babel  at  one's  feet ;  with  the  fleets 
and  the  treasures  of  nations  all  in  sight ;  and  with  a  million  of 
men  swarming  like  ants  in  their  mole-hill,  just  below,  it  is  one's 
own  fault  if  the  moral  elevation  be  not  far  more  sublime,  and  if 
the  impressions  of  the  hour  are  not  forcibly  suggestive  of  a 
glimpse  of  the  world  from  the  mansions  of  eternity. 

After  a  very  cursory  inspection  of  the  ill-judged  sculpture  in 


CRYPTS   OF   ST.   PAUL'S.  113 

the  nave  and  transepts,  and  a  more  affectionate  visit  to  the  statue 
of  Howard,  to  the  kneeling  figure  of  Ilebcr,  and  that  of  Bishop 
Middleton,  which  represents  him  as  confirming  two  Indian  child- 
ren, I  had  time  to  survey  the  crypts  before  the  Evening  Service. 
Here  lie  Reynolds,  and  West,  and  Lawrence,  and  several  of  their 
brothers  of  the  Academy;  and  here,  in  a  sort  of  chapel,  which 
admits  the  external  air  and  light  through  a  grating,  lies  the  archi- 
tect himself — the  truly  great  Sir  Christopher. 

"  Lie  heavy  on  him  earth,  for  he 
Laid  many  a  heavy  load  on  thee  !" 

But  now  you  come  to  the  circular  vault,  upheld  by  massive 
pillars,  and  lighted  partially  from  the  dome  above,  but  more 
strongly  by  gas-burners,  where  you  stand  before  the  sepulchre  of 
Nelson.  The  sarcophagus  is  an  empty  relic  of  Cardinal  AVolsey's 
ambition,  but  looks  so  modern,  that  one  is  tempted  to  believe  he 
ordered  it  in  prophetic  spirit,  expressly  for  its  present  purpose. 
After  all,  it  is  not  Nelson's  sepulchre,  for  he  is  buried  under  it. 
The  hero  and  the  ecclesiastic  have  alike  been  compelled  to  accept 
a  "little  earth  for  charity,"  and  this  hollow  semblance  of  a  coffin 
dangles  like  that  of  Mohammed,  between  them.  Alas!  thai  Nel- 
son's tomb  should  suggest  any  meaner  thoughts  than  those  of  his 
genius  and  glory;  but  it  was  in  fact  a  relief  to  turn  to  the  simple 
monument  of  Collingwood,  and  to  be  able  to  say,  here  lies  not 
only  a  decaying  hero,  but  a  slumbering  Christian. 

I  looked  for  the  monument  of  Dr.  Donne  with  especial  interest. 
You  grope  amid  interesting  relics  of  old  St.  Paul's,  a  fragment 
of  Lord  Chancellor  Hatton's  effigy,  a  piece  of  Dean  Colet's,  and 
another  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon's.  At  last,  in  one  corner  of  a 
dismal  cell,  feebly  lighted  by  a  grated  window  from  without,  you 
see  the  old  worthy,  in  his  shroud,  precisely  as  Walton  describes 
the  figure,  but  leaning  against  the  wall  like  a  ghost,  or  rather  like 
one  of  the  dried  corpses  in  the  Morgue,  on  the  Great  St.  Bernard. 
You  think  of  his  truly  heavenly  mind,  and  strange  life ;  of  his 
rusty  old  poetry,  and  sound  old  sermons ;  of  his  ancestor,  Sir 
Thomas  More,  and  of  his  descendant,  William  Cowper.  It  is 
strange  that  no  one  ever  thinks  of  Cowper  as  the  inheritor  of  this 
double  genius,  and  as  owing  some  features  of  his  intellect  not  less 
to  the  rhyming  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  than  to  the  author  of  Utopia. 
One  would  hope  that  under  the  Deanship  of  another  poet,  the 
graceful  and  scholarly  Milman,  this  one  historic  relic  of  the 
old  cathedral,  and  of  a  brother  of  the  sacred  lyre,  might  be 


114  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

set  in  a  fitter  place,  or  at  least  more  decently  erected  in  the 
place  where  it  now  seems  irreverently  set  aside  to  moulder  and 
be  forgotten. 

The  Thames  Tunnel  was  pronounced,  by  Canning,  "the  greatest 
bore  in  England :"  he*  was  bored  to  death  by  applications  for 
Government  aid  in  completing  it,  and  hence  spoke  feelingly.  It 
is  now  apparently  done,  though  not  finished,  and  is  a  cockney 
wonder,  well  worth  a  visit.  Were  it  only  in  actual  use  as  a 
thoroughfare  under  the  bed  of  the  Thames,  thus  realizing  the 
original  conception,  it  would  not  be  without  an  element  of  true 
sublimity ;  but  to  see  it  degraded  to  a  miserable  show,  scarcely 
paying  for  its  keeper,  and  serving  only  to  enable  the  visitor  to  say 
that  he  has  walked  under  the  Thames,  is  enough  to  justify  one  in 
naming  it  a  folly.  Its  uses,  however,  may  even  yet  be  demon- 
strated to  be  great,  and  I  cannot  but  feel  that  this  noble  work 
has  not  been  executed  for  naught.  It  will  even  yet  have  a 
history.  Pity  it  is  that  the  Duke  of  "Wellington  had  no  occa- 
sion to  use  it,  in  planning  the  defences  of  the  city  on  the 
memorable  tenth  of  April,  18-48.  It  needed  but  the  passage 
of  a  single  regiment,  under  his  command,  through  this  mysteri- 
ous excavation,  for  actual  purposes  of  surprise  and  stratagem, 
to  give  the  place  a  charm  forever ;  and  had  such  a  passage  been 
by  chance  accomplished  in  the  night,  and  led  by  the  Duke  in 
person,  for  the  sake  of  some  masterly  result,  a  new  and  romantic 
interest  would  have  been  added  as  well  to  his  own  marvellous 
story,  as  to  that  of  the  Tunnel  itself.  If  the  caverny  wine  vaults 
of  the  London  Docks  were  but  connected  with  the  Tunnel  on 
one  side,  and  the  Tower  on  the  other,  so  that  there  might  be  a 
sub-marine  passage  to  the  Tower,  from  the  Surrey  side,  it  would 
at  least  furnish  associations  of  a  military  character  to  this  daring 
achievement  of  Brunei. 

Such  were  some  of  the  random  suggestions  of  my  fancy,  as 
I  descended  the  shaft,  on  the  Wapping-side.  I  entered  the  dark 
hole,  with  a  vague  realization  of  the  descent  of  the  Trojan 
hero  into  the  shades  of  old.  The  first  glance  reveals  a  narrow 
street,  with  very  narrow  side-walks,  or  trottoirs,  arched  over 
with  masonry,  which  is  quite  devoid  of  anything  remarkable  in 
itself.  It  is  here  and  there  a  little  damp-looking,  but  not  more 
so  perhaps  than  tunnels  under  ground.  Gas  burns  along  the 
dismal  vault,  but  hardly  lights  it ;  enabling  one  to  amuse  him- 
self with  the  thought  of  seeing  fire  beneath  a  river,  and  to  pick 
his  way   comfortably;    but    otherwise    only  rendering   darkness 


THE  TUNNEL.  115 

visible*  The  corresponding  way,  or  the  other  half,  is  quite 
filled  up  with  stalls  and  shops,  in  which  they  offer,  here  a  raree- 
show,  and  then-  refreshments.  A  wretched  grinding  organ  fills 
the  cavern  with  doleful  music,  and  little  peddlers  offer  things 
for  sale.  So  few,  however,  seem  to  be  passing,  that  one  won  I.  re 
how  they  find  it  worth  while  to  cany  on  this  mermaid  merchan- 
dise. You  are  BO  bored  with  their  importunity,  that  it  is  not 
without  an  effort  that  you  compose  yourself,  and  reflect  that 
fishes  are  swimming,  and  that  the  keels  of  countless  ships,  with 
the  wealth  of  nations  in  their  holds,  are  passing  over  your  head. 
and  that  the  very  smallest  breach  in  the  arch  above  would 
"hurl  an  ocean  on  your  march  below."  This  is  the  one  great 
idea  of  the  Tunnel.  I  passed  through  and  emerged  at  Rother- 
hithe,  and  then  descending,  returned  in  the  same  way.  It 
occurred  to  me,  what  if  Guy  Fawkes  the  Second  should  till  this 
place  with  gunpowder,  and  touch  off  the  magazine,  by  electric 
telegraph, just  as  a  royal  fleet  was  passing  the  critical  point! 
Strange  to  say.  it  might  be  so  arranged,  by  means  of  the  telegraph 
and  Cardinal  Wiseman,  thai  the  Pope  himself,  sitting  in  his  arm- 
chair at  the  Vatican,  might  produce  this  terrible  explosion  in  the 
Thames;  and  I  suppose  he  is  quite  as  likely  to  do  it.  as  he  is  to 
effect  the  other  results  which  lie  and  the  Cardinal  (or  the  Cardi- 
nal and  he)  are  actually  attempting. 

The  shipping  which  one  behold-  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Tunnel, 
is  such  as  to  produce  a  powerful  impression  upon  the  mind,  in 
favour  of  the  vast  scale  on  which  the  commerce  of*  London  is 
maintained  with  the  whole  world.  Truly — "the  harvest  of  the 
river  is  her  revenue,  and  she  is  a  mart  of  nations."  As  com- 
pared with  the  port  of*  New- York,  the  narrowness  of  the  river 
here  rather  increases  than  Lessens  the  effect,  bringing  the  forest 
of  masts  and  the  bulk  of  steamers  close  together,  while,  in  our 
great  harbour,  they  are  stretched  along  such  a  circuit  of  shore, 
or  anchored  in  such  an  expanse  of  water,  as  materially  dimin- 
ishes the  general  impression  of  multitude  and  immensity.  It 
must  be  remembered,  however,  that  in  estimating  the  tonnage 
of  London,  a  vast  number  of  vessels  are  included  which  are 
never  thought  of  at  the  Custom-house  in  New- York.  Thus, 
our  river  craft,  which  supply  the  city  with  produce  for  the 
market,  such  as  eggs,  poultry  and  the  like,  with  the  whole  fleet 
of  our  domestic  steamers,  go  for  nothing  with  us;  while  on  the 
contrary,  the  hoys  that  bring  the  like;  from  the  Low  Countries 
and  the  coast  of  France,  with  the  steamers  that  ply  to  other 


116  IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

British  ports,  are  all  religiously  reckoned  in  the  commercial  lists 
of  the  British  Metropolis.  With  this  abatement,  one  is  sur- 
prised to  see  how  respectable  a  proportion  the  tonnage  of  New- 
York  bears  to  that  of  the  populous  Tyre  of  England ;  a  propor- 
tion which  is  probably  destined  to  a  direct  reversal  at  no  distant 
period,  when  once  the  Pacific  and  the  Australian  and  Asiatic 
coasts  are  fairly  opened  to  our  direct  trade  through  the  Isthmus 
of  Darien. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


London  Sights  and  By-places. 

It  is  surprising  how  deep-rooted  in  one's  mind  is  the  nonsense 
literature  of  the  nursery,  and  how  practically  useful  it  often  ren- 
ders itself  in  the  serious  occasions  of  life.  The  Cries  of  London, 
and  the  rhymes  of  Mother  Goose  may  often  point  a  moral  of  grave 
importance  to  mankind  ;  but  not  less  were  they  serviceable  to  me, 
in  enlivening  many  a  nook  and  corner  of  the  great  Metropolis, 
whenever  I  gave  myself  up  to  a  city  stroll,  as  I  frequently  did, 
without  plan,  and  in  the  merest  mood  of  adventure.  '  Heigho  ! 
here  is  Holborn' — or  again — 'this,  then,  is  Eastcheap' — or 
similar  exclamations  in  view  of  St.  Bride's  or  St.  Helen's — such 
were  my  entertainments,  as  I  moved  musingly  along,  among  stock- 
jobbers and  Jews.  The  sight  of  Pannier  Alley,  or  Pudding 
Lane,  I  am  free  to  confess,  raised  emotions  truly  lively  and  refresh- 
ing ;  and  seldom  was  I  in  want  of  associations,  equally  sentimen- 
tal and  profound,  while  I  traversed,  with  all  the  reverence  of  a 
pilgrim,  the  mighty  realms  of  Cockaigne. 

From  Charing-cross  to  Temple-bar,  in  spite  of  the  modern  im- 
provements, one  picks  not  a  little  of  this  sort  of  pleasure  as  he 
saunters  along.  Turning  aside  for  a  moment,  let  us  step  into 
Covent-gardens.  There  is  the  Church,  so  memorable  from 
Hogarth's  picture ;  and  so  illustrative  of  the  piety  and  taste  of 
the  Russels,  one  of  whom  being  forced  to  build  it  here,  amid  his 
thousand  tenants,  gave  Inigo  Jones  the  order,  and  suggested  the 
munificence  of  his  plans  in  the  words — "  anything — a  barn  will 
do."  Accordingly,  a  barn  it  is.  I  searched  its  precincts  for  the 
grave  of  Butler,  that  marvellous  Daguerreotypist  of  Puritanism, 
whose  rhymes  and  aphorisms  will  live  as  long  as  the  language 
which  they  so  curiously  shape  and  conjure  into  forms  the  most 


118  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

congenial  to  their  pith  and  purpose.  In  the  market  one  lingers 
amid  the  fruits  and  flowers,  which  here,  every  morning,  offer  to 
the  Londoners  a  toothsome  and  brilliant  display.  "  Buy  my 
roses" — "  cherry  ripe,  cherry  red" — "  strawberries,  your  honour" 
— and  "flowers  all  a-blowing,  all  a-growing" — such  are  the 
sounds  with  which  you  are  for  a  moment  emparadised,  albeit  in 
London  streets.  Here  also  you  spy  an  alderman's  dinner  at 
every  turn,  and  wonder  how  Chatterton  could  have  contrived  to 
starve,  within  call  of  such  a  surfeit.  But  alas  !  full  many  a  rag- 
ged visitor  looks  on  with  lean  and  hungry  stare,  and  famishes  the 
more  bitterly  for  the  sight  of  plenty,  which  he  cannot  enjoy. 

But  resuming  our  walk,  we  again  step  aside  to  look  at  the 
Savoy.  To  do  this,  we  pitch  down  hill,  towards  the  Thames ; 
and  there  is  all  that  remains  of  the  famous  Palace,  in  the  little 
homely  old  Church,  to  which  I  did  reverence  in  gratitude  to  God 
for  the  famous  Conference,  which  resulted  in  enriching  the 
Prayer-book  with  several  good  things,  (and  with  the  significant 
addition  of  two  words  in  the  Litany,  rebellion  and  schis?n,  amongst 
the  rest,)  as  the  result  of  the  Restoration.  Next  we  survey  the 
splendours  of  Somerset  House,  not  without  regretting  the  oblitera- 
tion of  the  old  historical  landmarks  which  it  has  deposed.  In 
the  middle  of  the  street,  before  it,  is  the  Church  of  St.  Mary-le- 
Strand,  where  stood,  in  good  old  times,  that  famous  May-pole,  so 
profane  and  odious  to  the  Round-heads,  but  which  makes  so 
picturesque  a  figure  in  our  visions  of  the  past.  It  perished 
honourably  at  last,  for  when  no  longer  used  for  Spring  dances 
and  revels,  it  was  given  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  who  hung  his  teles- 
cope thereto,  and  made  it  serve  him  in  exploring  the  stars.  So 
come  Ave  to  St.  Clement  Danes,  where  grave  visions  of  Johnson, 
keeping  Easter,  and  approaching  the  Holy  Sacrament  with  fear 
and  trembling,  give  dignity  to  its  otherwise  lack-lustre  appear- 
ance. And  here  is  the  Bar,  where  we  enter  Fleet-street  and  the 
city,  and  where  less  serious  memories  of  the  great  moralist  afflict 
one's  desire  to  preserve  propriety.  Fancy  him  here,  with  Bos- 
well  to  look  at  him.  holding  on  to  a  post,  and  making  the  night 
resound  with  his  ha-ha,  as  he  burst  into  earth-shaking  laughter 
over  his  own  wit.  Even  in  his  clay,  this  gate  of  the  city  used, 
occasionally,  to  be  set  with*  the  grim  heads  of  decapitated  traitors, 
and  I  remembered  that,  for  once,  poor  Goldsmith  got  the  better  of 
him  here,  by  an  apt  allusion  to  the  ghastly  spectacle.  They  had 
been  moralizing  together  in  Westminster  Abbey,  where  Johnson 
had  pointed  to  the  busts  in  Poet's  corner,  and  whispered,  in  a 


Lincoln's  inn,  119 

ponderous  Latin  quotation,  to  his  brother  poet — "perhaps  our 
heads  shall  yet  be  set  with  theirs."  Poor  Goldy  kept  his  wit  pent 
up  till  he  arrived  at  this  Spot.  when,  pointing  Johnson  to  the 
grim  skulls  of  his  fellow-Jacobites,  he  slyly  repeated — "perhaps 
our  heads  shall  yet  be  set  with  theirs  '."'  In  further  honour  of 
these  worthies.  I  hunted  up  that  orthodox  chop-house,  "  the 
Mitre,"  and  explored  with  awe  the  dingy  precinct  of  "  Bolt- 
Court  :"  nor  should  I  have  forgotten,  before  leaving  the  Strand. 
to  make  worthy  mention  of  "Clement's  Inn."  where  I  surveyed. 
for  a  few  minutes,  what  remains  of  that  ancient  haunt  of 
FabtatTs  memories;  remembering  too  that  "forked  radish*'  of  a 
man  whom  FalstaflPs  recollections  did  bo  vilely  disparage.  But 
time  would  fail  me  to  detail  my  various  ins  and  outs,  as  I  surveyed 
the  streets  of  London  from  St.  Dunstan's  to  Whitefriars. 

In  company  with  a  gentleman  of  the  Middle  Temple.  I  went 
one  morning  to  Lincoln's  Inn.  and  surveyed  it<  Hall  and  Library, 
which  have  been  lately  restored,  in  the  stylo  and  taste  of  the 
olden  time.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  Lord  Erskine's 
statue,  under  the  kindly  guidance  of  one  of  his  descendants.  In 
the  chapel,  the  pulpit  when  Heber  used  to  preach,  was  my  chief 
object  of  interest.  Lincom'i  Inn  Field-  attracted  my  attention, 
for  a  time,  though  it  i-  hard  to  conjure  up.  in  such  a  spot  as  it  is 
at  present)  the  scaffold  and  the  block,  and  poor  Lord  William 
EosseU  saying  his  last  prayer-.  To  the  Temple  gardens  I  then 
repaired  for  a  little  stroll,  and  there  encountered  the  Crown- 
prince  of  Prussia,  making  his  survey  of  the  place,  attended  by 
his  suite.  He  moves  rapidly,  and  cut*  a  good  figure.  What  he 
e  shall  be  likely  to  know  if  we  live  to  see  him  reign.  From 
the  Temple  to  AUiiia  \<  but  a  Step,  and  here  I  walked  in  painful 
honour  of  Nigel  Olifaunt.  as  long  as  the  sights  and  smells,  which 
still  preserve  a  thievish  richness,  would  allow  a  mere  romance  to 
support  my  enthusiasm.  And  so  from  Whitefriars  to  Blackfriars, 
where,  upon  the  vein-  walls  of  ancient  London.  "  the  Times  News- 
paper" now  nourishes,  in  its  modern  offices,  and  oft  "with  /ear 
of  change,  perplexes  monarchs."  I  had  been  so  happy  as  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Walter,  its  eminent  proprietor;  and 
under  his  hospitable  roof,  in  Upper  Grosvenor-street.  I  met  with 
some  of  the  most  agreeable  personages  whom  I  encountered  in 
the  society  of  the  Metropolis.  The  day's  adventures  closed  with 
a  visit  to  Herald's  College,  and  to  Doctors'  Commons.  A  slight 
inspection  of  the  latter  sufficed  ;  but  as  I  was  in  company  with 
one  who  had  business  at  the  former,  I  lingered  for  a  while  in  its 


120  IMPRESSIONS .  OF  ENGLAND. 

worshipful  chambers,  and  was  glad  to  see  something  of  the  pro- 
cess of  the  anti-republican  mystery  to  which  it  is  devoted.  Here 
are  the  historic  books,  from  which  pedigrees  are  furnished ;  and 
here  are  the  authorities  for  quarterings  and  emblazonings,  and  all 
such  changes  in  coat-armour  as  marriages  and  entailments  may 
make  necessary.  Some  interesting  relics  are  shown  of  the  days 
when  knights  and  tournaments,  and  battles  too,  were  in  higher 
esteem  than  now ;  and  one  cannot  but  be  entertained  with  the 
beautiful  drawings  and  colourings  of  the  divers  artists  here  em- 
ployed to  "gild  the  refined  gold"  of  British  gentility.  In  the 
quadrangle  of  the  College  are  the  escutcheons  of  the  Stanleys, 
marking  the  site  of  the  ancient  Derby  House. 

I  had  met,  more  than  once,  with  Sir  Thomas  Noon  Talfourd, 
and  by  his  invitation,  I  took  an  opportunity  to  be  a  spectator  at 
the  Old  Bailey  one  morning,  when  some  flagrant  criminals  were 
to  be  tried.  It  is  a  horrid  spectacle,  but  one  would  see  every- 
thing, except  the  last  act  at  Newgate,  on  many  reasonable 
grounds.  I  shuddered  as  I  entered  the  street  before  the  prison, 
where  such  crowds  of  brutal  human  beings  have  long  been  wont 
to  congregate  around  the  gallows.  Dr.  Dodd  was  not  hanged  here, 
but  I  could  think  of  him  only  as  I  entered  the  doleful  little  court- 
room in  which  he  was  tried.  I  found  an  inferior  magistrate  try- 
ing some  petty  offenders ;  but  when  this  was  over,  the  judges,  in 
their  robes  and  wigs,  made  their  appearance,  preceded  by  the 
sheriff,  dressed  in  a  full  court  suit,  and  bearing  a  drawn  sword. 
The  judges  were  Baron  Alderson,  and  my  kind  friend,  Judge 
Talfourd.  I  was  seated,  by  his  order,  in  a  raised  box,  or  pew, 
at  the  side  of  the  bench,  apparently  reserved  for  invited  strangers. 
Directly  one  Francis  Judd,  a  youth  of  seventeen,  was  put  to  the 
bar,  to  be  tried  for  the  murder  of  his  father !  There  was  about 
the  very  opening  of  this  trial  something  stern  and  awful,  which 
the  poor  prisoner  appeared  to  feel.  He  stood  pale  and  haggard, 
picking  the  sprigs  of  rue,  which,  according  to  custom,  were  stuck 
in  the  spikes  before  him,  and  seemed  simply  sensible  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  in  the  clutches  of  the  law.  There  was  a  majesty 
about  the  administration  of  justice  here,  which  is  utterly  wanting 
in  our  courts.  The  case  was  opened  with  short  speeches — the 
witnesses  were  examined — the  instrument  which  dealt  the  death 
blow  was  produced,  and  some  bloody  relics  were  exhibited  by  the 
policemen  who  had  detected  the  culprit.  The  case  was  clear 
against  the  lad,  but  he  looked  stupidly  on.  Then  came  the  sum- 
ming up.     His  counsel  admitted  the  deed,  but  claimed  that  it  was 


THE    OLD    BAILEY.  121 

only  manslaughter.  The  judge  told  the  jury  it  was  for  them  to 
say  whether  it  was  murder  or  not.  They  conferred  awhile — 
they  looked  at  the  prisoner,  and  he  at  them — they  gave  their  ver- 
dict— manslaughter.  Baron  Alderson,  who  seemed  to  have  his 
black  cap  just  ready  to  put  on,  thrust  it  aside,  and  lifting  his  glass 
to  his  eye,  to  survey  the  poor  wretch,  said : — "  Francis  Judd,  the 
jury  have  found  you  guilty  of  manslaughter.  For  my  own  sake, 
and  far  more  for  yours,  I  thank  God  they  have.  Had  it  been  a 
verdict  of  murder,  I  could  not  have  found  fault  with  it,  and  my 
duty  would  have  been  more,  far  more,  painful  than  it  is  now.  I 
have  looked  in  vain  for  proper  signs  of  emotion  in  you  during 
this  trial.  I  am  sorry  you  have  not  shown  some  feelings  of  hor- 
ror at  your  awful  guilt.  A  father's  slaughter !  The  weapon 
with  which  you  struck  the  old  man's  gray  head  brought  before 
your  eyes,  and  even  the  covering  of  his  pillow,  stained  with  the 
blood  !  Poor  youth,  he  may  have  been  stern  with  you,  but  still 
he  was  your  father.  Your  punishment  will  be  severe,  but  it  will 
give  you  time  to  meditate  and  repent — the  sentence  of  the  court 
is,  that  you  be  transported  for  life."  The  whole  trial  had  just 
taken  one  hour  and  a  half  by  the  watch.  Yet  all  had  been  fair, 
and  merciful.  What  a  contrast  to  an  American  trial !  Francis 
Judd  was  then  removed,  and  soon  another  culprit,  bullet-headed 
and  brute  featured,  was  standing  in  his  place.  I  had  seen  enough, 
and,  bowing  to  Judge  Talfourd,  I  took  my  departure.  I  passed 
St.  'Pulchre's,  whose  bell  still  tolls  the  knell  of  the  convicts,  and 
whose  solemn  clock  is  their  last  measure  of  time. 

I  went  into  the  crypts  of  one  of  the  old  London  Churches,  to 
survey  its  Norman  architecture,  and  there  found  myself  standing 
amid  piles  of  coffins,  of  all  sizes  and  descriptions.  Open  gratings 
let  in  the  light  from  the  streets,  and  disclosed  the  passers-by,  who 
seemed  unconscious  of  the  fact,  that  catacombs  were  so  near.  I 
never  was  in  such  an  awful  place  before.  The  smell  was  not  so 
bad  as  I  should  have  supposed  would  be  the  case,  and  chloride  of 
lime  was  sprinkled  liberally  about.  But  here  were  the  coffins  of 
a  family,  piled  one  upon  another — a  consumptive  mother,  and  her 
one,  two,  three,  five,  or  six  children,  in  successive  stages  of  de- 
cay. What  a  story  it  told — that  pile  of  mortality !  Here  was 
a  coffin,  so  large  that  Goliath  might  lie  in  it.  "  Eight  men  never 
carried  that  coffin,"  said  the  sexton,  and  on  it  I  read  the  name 
of  some  beef  and  pork  consuming  Londoner,  whilom  a  substan- 
tial pillar  of  the  Exchange.  The  sexton  next  brought  me  to  a 
case,  which  he  opened,  exhibiting  the  dried  corpse  of  a  female. 

6 


122  IMPEESSIOXS    OF   ENGLAND. 

"  This  was  here,"  said  he,  "  in  the  time  of  the  great  fire  of  Lon- 
don, and  was  then  dried  as  yon  see."  Next  he  came  to  a  sort  of 
chest,  standing  upright,  and  opening  like  a  closet.  He  opened  it, 
and  displayed  two  mummy-like  figures,  singularly  dried,  and  un- 
deeayed.  He  moved  their  horrid  heads  upon  their  shoulders,  and 
said — "  They  were  twin  brothers  that  were  hung,  sir,  long  ago, 
sir,  in  George  Third's  time."  I  mentioned  what  I  had  seen  to  a 
friend  in  the  Temple.  "  I  am  surprised,"  said  he,  "  but  you  have 
seen  the  poor  fellows  whose  fate  sealed  that  of  Dr.  Dodd.  They 
are  the  two  Perreaus  hanged  for  forgery  in  1776  ;  of  whom  Lord 
Mansfield  said  to  the  King — '  they  must  be  regarded  as  murdered 
men,  if  your  Majesty  pardons  Dr.  Dodd.' " 

At  another  time,  I  paid  my  respects  to  the  famous  "  London- 
stone,"  a  Roman  relic  set  in  the  wall  of  St.  Swithin's,  and  familiar  to 
Shakspereans,  as  the  throne  of  the  redoubtable  Jack  Cade.  Of 
course,  I  went  to  see  Smithfield,  reeking  with  smells,  even  when 
void  of  cattle  and  swine,  and  donkeys,  but  still  venerable  for  the- 
fires  of  martyrdom  with  which  it  was  once  illuminated.  Hard 
by  is  St.  Bartholomew's,  whose  tower  once  reflected  the  light  of 
those  flames  of  the  Bloody  Mary.  So  too,  I  visited  old  St. 
John's  Gate,  Clerkenwell,  familiar  from  the  vignette  on  the 
"  Gentleman's  Magazine,"  and  suggestive  of  Cave,  and  of  John- 
son's first  ventures  upon  his  patronage.  I  went  through  and 
through  the  gate,  and  surveyed  both  sides  with  curious  interest. 
There  it  has  stood  since  the  Crusades,  and  the  dust  and  cobwebs 
in  its  old  turrets  have  been  gathering  for  ages  undisturbed.  An 
old  inhabitant  told  me  she  once  opened  a  dark  stair-way,  and 
tried  to  go  up,  but  the  dry  dust  nearly  choked  her.  So  lounging 
about,  I  ranged  through  Aldersgate,  Charterhouse-Square,  and 
the  Barbican,  and,  of  course,  to  St.  Giles',  Cripplegate.  There 
I  visited  the  grave  of  Milton,  once  so  rudely  profaned  during  the 
repairs  of  the  Church,  and  still  almost  unmarked.  Here  Crom- 
well was  married,  while  as  yet  "  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood," 
and  here  lies  buried  Foxe,  the  Martyrologist.  Holy  Bishop 
Andrewes  was  once  incumbent  of  St.  Giles',  and  this  is  its 
fairest  memory.  In  the  churchyard  is  a  great  curiosity,  noth- 
ing less  than  a  portion  of  the  old  Avail  of  London.  Its  founda- 
tions are  of  Roman  origin,  and  what  I  saw  was,  doubtless, 
built  by  Alfred,  to  keep  off  the  Danes  !  I  had  never  seen  a 
piece  of  masonry  so  interesting.  It  is  a  bastion  of  massive 
structure,  yet  by  no  means  formidable  as  the  fortifications  of  a 
eity.     And  did  the  soldiers  of  immortal  Alfred  really  man  this 


chaucer's  tabard.  123 

wall ;  and  did  London  ever   need   such  a  bulwark  against  the 
Danes  ! 

My  Miltonic  enthusiasm  being  now  excited,  I  sought  out 
Bunhill  fields,  and  the  Old  Artillery  ground,  near  which  he  once 
dwelt.  Moreover,  I  fared  through  Grub-street,  in  whose  gar- 
rets have  dwelt  the  rhyming  tribes,  idealized  by  Hogarth's  Dis- 
tressed Poet,  from  time  immemorial.  Tom  Moore  enjoys  a  laugh 
at  our  American  "  Tiber,"  formerly  "  Duck  Creek ;"  but  what 
shall  excuse  the  fact, — which,  by  the  slightest  substitution,  I  may 
tell  in  his  own  line — 

"That  what  was  Grub-stxeet  once  is  Milton  now  !" 

The  corporation  of  London  must  have  made  this  change  after 
a  very  heavy  dinner.  Grub-street,  however,  has  been  always 
famous  for  very  light  ones ;  and  if  Milton  did  verily  inhabit 
here,  in  her  day,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Mary  Powell  bewailed 
her  maiden  life,  and  ran  away  into  Oxfordshire.  But  enough  of 
him  and  her.  My  reader  will  be  more  gratified  to  learn  that  on 
crossing  to  Southwark,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  discovering  the 
mean  and  narrow  entrance  to  an  old-fashioned  court,  over  which 
is  still  legible,  the  following  inscription — "  This  is  the  inne  where 
Sir  Jeffry  Chaucer  and  the  nine-and-twenty  pilgrims  lay,  in  their 
journey  to  Canterbury,  Anno  1383."  It  was  "the  Tabard" 
then,  and  it  is,  by  some  strange  corruption,  "the  Talbot"  now. 
Here  then  was  that  charmed  spot,  from  which  went  forth  those 
devotees  of  St.  Thomas-a-Becket,  who  talked  so  merrily,  and 
often  so  well ;  and  whose  quaint  portraiture  as  it  has  been  pre- 
served by  genius,  so  embalms  the  peculiarities  of  thought,  of 
manners,  and  of  language,  which  characterized  our  English  fore- 
fathers, in  that  marvellous  age,  when  WyclifFe  in  prose,  and 
Chaucer  in  poetry,  laid  the  foundation  of  our  Anglo-Saxon 
Literature,  and  scattered  many  goodly  seeds  of  a  reformation  in 
religion.  I  was  entranced  by  the  associations  of  the  place,  for 
it  is  yet  an  Old  English  Inn,  and  looks  as  if  it  might  still  be  the 
identical  hostelry,  built  as  it  is  around  the  inn-yard,  with  gal- 
leries, and  ancient  windows,  and  odd  devices.  It  is  but  a  halting- 
place  for  wagoners  and  countrymen ;  but,  in  spite  of  myself,  I 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  enter  its  humble  door,  and 
order  a  little  something,  for  Chaucer's  sake,  to  refresh  a  wayfarer. 
But,  to  resume  my  rambles,  behold  me,  by  various  crooks  and 
turns,  visiting  Hounsditch  and  Billingsgate,  and  St.  Ethelburga's, 
and  St.  Helen's.     This  St.  Helen,  by-the-way,  is  the  mother  of 


124  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND, 

Constantine,  and  a  part  of  London  wall  she  built  herself;  so 
that,  from  England  to  "  stubborn  Jewry,"  her  architecture  is  her 
monument.  I  surveyed  what  is  left  of  Crosby  Hall ;  visited 
"  the  old  lady  in  Threadneedle-street,"  otherwise  called  the  Bank 
of  England ;  and,  returning,  heard  the  stupendous  bells  of  Bow 
in  their  full  harmony.  That  day  was  the  festival  of  "  the  Sons 
of  the  Clergy."  I  arrived  at  St.  Paul's  in  time  to  see  the  pro- 
cession entering  the  great  western  door;  the  Archbishop,  the 
Bishop  of  London,  and  the  Lord  Mayor,  with  other  worshipful 
civic  dignitaries,  making  its  most  conspicuous  part.  I  lingered 
without  the  choir,  till  the  services  were  quite  advanced,  and  again 
had  an  opportunity  of  enjoying  the  effect  of  the  distant  service, 
and  the  rich  reverberations  of  the  dome. 


CHAPTER    XVI 


London  Society. 

I  have  spoken  of  my  daily  occupations  with  little  or  no 
allusion  to  that,  which  proved  to  me  the  chief  charm  of  life  in 
London,  its  delightful  society.  It  would  be  a  poor  tribute  to 
modern  civilization  to  regard  the  social  pleasures  of  a  brilliant 
capital,  as  presenting  a  secondary  topic  of  remark ;  and  yet  so 
sacred  are  even  the  most  public  of  domestic  civilities,  that  what- 
ever goes  on  under  a  private  roof,  seems  necessarily  invested 
with  a  character,  to  which  types  cannot  do  justice,  without,  at 
the  same  time,  becoming  sacrilegious.  The  ethics  of  travel  are, 
even  yet,  by  no  means  settled ;  for  persons  who  should  be 
authorities,  have  been  often  betrayed  into  the  setting  of  an  ex- 
ample, which,  if  all  were  free  to  follow  it,  would  permit  society 
to  be  infested  with  hordes  of  literary  pirates,  whose  flag  would 
be  fatal  to  the  freedoms  and  confidences  of  civilized  intercourse, 
everywhere.  On  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  such  social  corsairs 
have  too  frequently  paraded  their  spoils.  It  is  not  so  much  with 
the  fear  of  their  ignominy  before  mine  eyes,  as  in  view  of  that 
Golden  Rule  which  they  have  flagrantly  transgressed,  that  I  shall 
restrict  myself,  in  my  narratives,  to  the  most  general  allusions  to 
social  scenes,  and  to  the  mention  of  such  names  only  as  are  more 
or  less  publicly  known. 

One  needs  only  a  few  competent  letters  as  a  passport  to 
English  hospitality.  Alter  first  introductions,  the  way  of  the 
stranger  who  behaves  himself,  is  as  open  as  in  his  own  land. 
Hospitality  is,  in  fact,  a  truly  English  virtue.  Nowhere  else 
does  the  word  imply  so  much  genuine  kindness.  Nowhere  else 
does  it  so  completely  make  the  stranger  at  home.  Morning, 
noon,  and  night,  it  follows  you  up  with  its  benevolent  persever- 


126  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

ance,  and  seems  to  exact  the  minimum  of  ceremony  in  return. 
It  does  not  satisfy  itself  with  politeness ;  it  shows  you  the  soul 
of  friendship  ;  and  that,  while  it  allows  you  all  the  freedom  of  a 
passenger,  when  you  might  otherwise  feel  embarrassed  by  your 
inability  to  reciprocate  such  proofs  of  good  will.  The  truth  is, 
there  is  real  heart  in  the  civilities  which  are  proffered,  and  where 
politeness  is  rooted  in  sincerity,  it  is  always  considerate,  inven- 
tive and  unfailing.  An  English  gentleman,  whatever  his  circum- 
stances, as  soon  as  he  knows  that  you  are  entitled  to  his  atten- 
tions, does  all  that  he  can  to  make  you  really  happy.  If  his 
means  are  small  he  is  not  ashamed  to  offer  you  the  best  he  can 
give,  and  he  is  pleased  with  his  success,  if  he  feels  that  you  have 
accepted  his  hospitality  in  the  spirit  which  prompted  it.  Con- 
tented, self-respecting,  hearty  Christian  love  is  the  root  of  the 
matter,  in  those  true  specimens  of  English  nature,  which  are 
uppermost  in  my  memory,  as  I  write,  and  "  whatsoever  things 
are  lovely"  are  but  the  generous  product  of  that  sound  and  health- 
ful stock.  Happy  is  he  who  has  made  a  genuine  Englishman  his 
friend,  for  such  a  friendship  implies  the  fullest  confidence,  and  is 
a  tribute  to  accredited  integrity  and  worth. 

In  London,  during  "  the  season,"  there  is  an  incessant  round 
not  only  of  fashionable  entertainments,  but  also  of  such  as  are 
indeed  feasts  of  reason  and  of  soul.  You  are  invited  to  break- 
fast at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  and  are  sure  to  meet  an  agreeable 
company,  as  few  as  the  Graces,  or  as  many  as  the  Muses.  One 
after  another  the  guests  drop  in,  in  morning  dress,  and  among  them 
are  a  number  of  ladies  who  sit  at  table  in  their  bonnets,  and 
generally  add  not  a  little  to  the  liveliness  of  the  company.  There 
is  nothing,  perhaps,  before  you  besides  an  egg,  with  your  tea  and 
toast;  but  the  side-board  is  loaded  with  substantiate,  and  you 
have  plenty  of  fruit  to  conclude  the  repast.  The  party  con- 
duct themselves  as  if  time  were  plenty,  and  easy  conversation 
goes  round ;  your  host  occasionally  drawing  you  out,  on  subjects 
upon  which  you  are  supposed  to  be  informed.  After  an  hour  or 
more,  there  is  a  general  breaking  up,  and  Sir  Somebody  begs  you 
to  take  a  seat  in  his  carriage,  which  is  waiting  at  the  door,  or  Mr. 
Blank  proposes  walking  with  you  to  the  "University  Club 
House ;"  or  you  draw  off  to  keep  some  other  engagement.  Ten 
to  one  you  breakfast  somewhere  else  to-morrow,  as  the  conse- 
quence of  making  yourself  as  little  disagreeable  as  possible 
to-day ;  and  so  it  goes  on  to  your  heart's  content,  through  the 
week. 


DICING  ■  OUT,  127 

You  are  invited  to  dinner,  at  any  hour  from  five  to  eight, 
sometimes,  of  course,  very  unceremoniously,  and  sometimes  in 
full  form.  You  go  at  the  hour  appointed,  and  discover  that 
punctuality  has  ceased  to  be  fashionable  in  London.  I  was  often 
surprised  to  observe  the  latitude  given  to  guests,  and  taken  by 
the  cook.  At  dinners,  everything  goes  on  as  with  us,  save  that 
there  is  some  form  in  announcing  the  guests,  and  also  in  placing 
them  at  table.  The  servant  vociferously  proclaims  "Mr.  Green" 
— as  he  flings  open  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  and  if  for  a 
moment  you  find  yourself  abashed  by  the  noise  which  you  find 
yourself  making,  it  is  afterwards  very  agreeable  to  know  who  is  who, 
upon  the  arrival  of  others.  A  reverend  personage  enters  in  an 
ecclesiastical  coat,  with  silk  apron,  or  cassock,  and  you  hear  him 

proclaimed  as  "  the  Lord  Bishop  of ,"  or  as  "  the  Dean 

of  ."     A  pleasing,  but  quiet-looking  gentleman  appears, 

under    the    sound    of   a    name    familiar   as  that   of  one  of  her 

Majesty's  Cabinet  Ministers.      "  Lord "  is  announced,  and 

you  behold  a  somewhat  distingue  figure,  wearing  a  glittering 
decoration  around  the  neck,  or  upon  the  breast.  Several  literary 
or  professional  personages  complete  the  company ;  and  when  the 
ladies  are  waited  upon  to  the  dining-room,  you  are  sure  to  be 
paired  with  the  suitable  party,  and  to  find  yourself  placed  with 
careful  reference  to  your  .insignificance  or  importance,  as  the  case 
may  be.  As  to  the  table,  the  good  old  English  courses  seem  to 
be  giving  way  to  foreign  customs,  as  with  us.  It  is  not  unusual 
to  sit  down  to  flowers  and  fruits,  and  confectionary,  and  to  see 
nothing  else  for  your  dinner,  except  as  the  soup  and  other  dishes 
are  brought  you  in  succession,  the  meats  being  carved  by  the 
servants,  and  all  the  old-fashioned  notions,  as  to  vegetables  and 
side  dishes,  very  much  Frenchified,  and  revolutionized.  Grace 
before  meat,  and  after  the  removal  of  the  cloth,  was  always 
faithfully  performed  in  the  circles  which  I  frequented ;  but  I 
was  sorry  to  hear  that  this  new  style  of  serving  the  table  has 
someAvhat  affected  those  Christian  proprieties,  by  confounding 
';  the  egg  and  the  apples"  and  leaving  one  in  doubt  as  to  where 
the  dinner  proper  begins,  or  where  it  arrives  at  a  legitimate  con- 
clusion. 

The  conversation  at  these  dinners  never  seemed  to  me  as 
animated  as  that  of  breakfast  parties.  Even  the  half  hour  after 
the  withdrawal  of  the  ladies,  and  the  disappearance  of  servants, 
was  less  sociable  and  sprightly.  I  must  say,  however,  that  I 
entirely  disagree  with  the  profound  Mr.  Boswell,  as  regards  the 


128  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

introduction  of  children  at  the  dessert,  which,  in  my  opinion, 
greatly  enlivens  such  occasions.  In  they  come,  rosy  and  beauti- 
ful, fresh  from  the  nursery  toilet,  and  bringing  joy  and  hilarity  in 
their  eyes  and  faces  !  The  son  and  heir  steals  up  to  his  father ; 
a  lovely  girl  is  permitted  by  mamma  to  come  timidly  to  you.  I 
was,  indeed,  a  little  surprised  at  a  nobleman's  table,  when  his 
boy.  a  youth  of  twelve  or  fourteen,  came  to  his  side,  to  find  the 

little  fellow  introduced  as  "  Lord  C ,"  instead  of  Harry  or 

Willie,  as  it  would  have  been  with  us ;  but,  as  nothing  could 
exceed  the  familiar  and  affectionate  manner  in  which  the  title 
was  spoken,  I  saw  at  once  that  it  was  natural  enough  to  others, 
however  unwonted  to  my  Republican  ear,  to  see  a  mere  child  so 
formally  announced.      After   this   announcement  he  was  called 

simply  "  C ,"  as  if  it  had  been  his  Christian  name,  and  I 

was  pleased  with  his  simple  and  unaffected  manners  throughout. 
English  children  appear  to  be  "under  tutors  and  governors,"  and 
generally  behave  with  becoming  deference  to  elder  persons.  I 
remember  not  a  few  of  my  little  friends  in  England,  with  real 
affection.  Blessings,  then,  I  say,  on  the  children,  and  may  it 
never  be  unfashionable  for  them  to  be  seen  amid  fruit  and  flowers, 
at  an  American  or  an  English  table ! 

I  accepted  a  few  invitations  to  evening  parties,  but  what  to 
call  them  I  hardly  knew.  The  superb  apartments,  in  which 
they  were  given,  were  crammed  with  the  company ;  there  were 
perpetual  exits  and  entrances ;  cries  were  constantly  heard  be- 
low of — "  Lady  K 's  carriage  stops  the  way ;"  while  the 

incessant  grinding  of  wheels  in  the  street  proclaimed  the  arrival 
and  departure  of  the  great  and  the  gay,  as  they  went  the  rounds 
of  many  a  similar  scene  during  the  same  evening.  At  a  splen- 
did residence  in  Piccadilly,  I  was  presented  on  such  an  occasion 
to  the  Duke  of  "Wellington.  He  wore  a  plain  black  suit,  with  a 
star  on  the  breast  of  his  coat ;  and  when  I  first  saw  him  he 
was  standing  quite  apart,  with  a  noiseless  and  even  retiring 
dignity  of  appearance,  to  which  his  white  head  gave  the  chief 
charm.  I  had  no  idea  that  I  was  near  him,  till  turning  sud- 
denly, his  unmistakeable  figure  was  before  me.  The  rooms  were 
one  blaze  of  rank  and  fashion ;  but  for  a  while  I  could  see  no 
one  but  the  old  hero.  AVhen  I  was  introduced,  I  could  do  little 
more  than  bow,  and  accept  his  polite  recognition,  for  he  was 
quite  deaf,  and  I  had  observed  that  conversation  was  evidently 
distasteful  to  him. 

On  another  evening,  just  after  the  Queen's  State  Ball,  I  was 


HISTORICAL    COSTUMES.  129 

amused  to  meet,  in  a  similar  scene,  the  dresses  and  costumes 
■which  had  lately  figured  at  the  Palace.  They  were  of  historical 
character,  and  hence  peculiarly  interesting.  Here  was  Henri- 
etta Maria,  the  Queen  of  Charles  First,  and  there  was  a  lady  of 
the  Court  of  Charles  the  Second.  The  stiff  court  fashions  of 
the  Georges  were  also  represented,  and  one  could  easily  imagine 
himself  among  Chesterfields  and  Eochesters.  But,  thank  God, 
the  British  Peerage,  in  our  day,  is  dignified  by  better  men,  and 
amid  this  brilliant  masquerading.  I  first  met  with  young  Lord 
Nelson,  so  justly  beloved  for  his  active  interest  in  all  good 
works,  and  found  him  most  agreeable  in  conversation,  which, 
even  in  such  an  assembly,  was  entirely  in  keeping  with  his 
character.  Here,  too,  I  saw  and  conversed  with  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle,  since  an  important  member  of  the  British  Mini-try. 
but  then,  and  always,  as  I  feel  sure  from  his  unaffected  tone  of 
remark,  not  less  than  from  his  general  reputation,  an  earnest 
Christian,  anxious  to  be  a  faithful  steward,  and  to  do  what  he 
can  for  the  extension  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ  among  all  man- 
kind. 

The  general  interest  felt  in  this  country  in  the  author  of  Ion, 
may  excuse  my  particular  mention  of  a  party  at  Lady  Talfourd's, 
in  which  the  literary  and  legal  professions  were  more  fully  repre- 
sented. Here  one  saw  the  Barons  of  Westminster-Hall  in  their 
proper  persons,  without  the  burthen  of  robes  and  wigs :  while 
moving  about  the  rooms,  one  encountered  a  poet  or  popular 
novelist,  and  not  least,  the  amiable  host  himself.  He  made  kind 
inquiries  concerning  several  of  my  distinguished  countrymen, 
and  touching  upon  matters  of  law,  paid  a  very  high  compliment 
to  the  ability  and  legal  skill  with  which  the  trial  of  Professor 
Webster  had  been  managed  in  Boston.  Judge  Talfourd  ap- 
peared then  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  inspired  me  with  respect  by 
his  modest  but  dignified  personal  demeanour.  He  has  since  died 
a  death,  on  the  bench,  more  impressive  than  that  of  heroes  on 
the  field. 

With  regard  to  the  tone  of  society  in  general,  I  think  every 
stranger  must  be  struck  with  its  elevation,  whether  intellectually 
or  morally  considered.  An  English  gentleman  is  generally  highly 
educated.  Society  consists  of  cultivated  persons,  male  and 
female,  whose  accomplishments  are  not  displayed,  but  exist  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  as  essential  to  one's  part  in  the  duties  and 
civilities  of  life.  No  one  ventures  to  feel  better  informed  than 
his  neighbour,  and  hence  there  is  a  rreneral  deference  to  other 

6* 


130  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

men's  opinions,  and  a  reserve  in  expressing  one's  own,  which  ia 
highly  significant  of  extreme  civilization  and  refinement.  Such 
a  state  of  society,  however,  has  its  drawbacks.  Character  often 
becomes  neutralized,  and  genius  itself  dulled  and  flattened,  where 
to  distinguish  one's  self  is  felt  to  be  an  impropriety,  and  where 
the  manifestation  of  decided  thought  or  feeling  would  be  eccen- 
tric, and  even  rude.  Hence  I  observed  a  sort  of  uniformity  in 
manner  and  expression,  which  is  sometimes  depressing;  and 
when 'upon  some  private  occasion,  I  discovered  that  the  smooth, 
quiet  personage  whom  I  had  seen  only  in  the  dull  propriety  in 
which  the  pressure  of  company  had  held  him,  like  a  single  stone 
in  an  arch,  was  a  man  of  feeling,  of  taste,  of  varied  informa- 
tion, and  accurate  learning,  I  said  to  myself — '  what  a  lamenta- 
ble waste  is  here ! '  This  man  who  should  have  been  enriching 
the  world  with  his  stores  of  erudition  and  of  reflection,  has 
never  conceived  of  himself  as  having  anything  to  impart,  or  by 
which  his  fellow-man  should  profit.  His  accomplishments  are, 
like  his  fortune  and  respectability,  his  mere  personal  qualifications 
for  a  position  in  society,  in  which  he  is  contented  merely  to 
move,  without  shining,  or  dispensing  anything  more  than  the 
genial  warmth  of  good  humour  and  benevolence.  There  are 
thousands  of  such  men  in  England,  living  and  dying  in  the  most 
exquisite  relish  of  social  pleasures,  and  deriving  daily  satisfac- 
tion from  their  own  mental  resources,  but  contributing  nothing 
to  the  increase  of  the  world's  intellectual  wealth,  and  never 
dreaming  of  their  attainments  as  talents  which  they  are  bound  to 
employ.  They  live  among  educated  men — knowledge  is  a  drug 
in  their  market :  of  course  they  know  this  or  that,  but  so  does 
everybody  else,  and  what  have  they  to  confer  ?  It  would  be  an 
impertinence  for  them  (so  they  seem  to  feel)  to  teach  or  to  dic- 
tate an  opinion.  Dr.  Johnson  has  left  a  remark,  in  the  records 
of  his  biographer,  upon  this  tendency  of  refinement  to  abase 
individual  merit,  and  I  am  sure  a  dogmatist  like  himself  would 
not  now  be  supported  in  English  society.  So  very  odd  and  un- 
accountable a  phenomenon,  even  were  his  manners  less  forbid- 
ding, would  be  intolerable  in  intelligent  circles,  to  say  nothing  of 
those  of  splendour  and  fashion.  England  exhibits  just  now  the 
smooth  and  polished  surface  of  a  social  condition  which  has  no 
marked  inequalities.  Even  rank  fails  to  create  those  chasms  and 
elevations  which  were  once  so  striking  and  formidable.  Gentle- 
men are  very  nearly  alike,  whatever  their  antecedents.  All  are 
well-informed,  all  have  travelled,  all  are  well-bred,   and  alike 


SAMUEL   ROGERS.  131 

familiar  with  the  world.  The  Universities,  too,  have  done  not  a 
little  to  assimilate  characters.  Minds  have  been  fashioned  in  one 
mould,  and  opinions  shaped  by  one  pattern.  Even  language  and 
expression,  and  personal  carriage  are  reduced  to  a  common  for- 
mula. I  closely  watched  the  pronunciation  of  thorough-bred 
men,  and  often  drew  them  into  classical  quotations,  to  observe 
their  delicacy  in  prosody,  and  their  manner  of  pronouncing  the 
Latin.  I  prefer  very  much  the  German  or  Italian  theories  of 
classical  orthoepy;  but  for  mere  longs  and  shorts,  there  is  no 
such  adept  as  an  English  tongue.  They  cany  it  into  the  vernacu- 
lar, however,  against  all  analogy,  and  often  startle  an  American 
by  what  seems  elaborate  pedantry  and  affectation.  You  are  con- 
founded by  an  allusion  to  Longfellow's  Hyperion — accent  on  the 
penultimate ;  or  you  are  puzzled  by  the  inquiry  whether  any  doc- 
trinal differences  exist  between  the  English  and  American 
Churches — second  syllable  made  studiously  long !  Yet  the  man 
would  be  thought  an  intolerable  ass  who  should  display  his 
knowledge  of  purely  French  or  Teutonic  derivatives,  by  a  simi- 
lar deference  to  etymology :  and  no  one  thinks  of  carrying  out 
this  principle  in  all  words  of  like  analogy.  Usage,  however, 
with  all  its  caprices,  settles  every  dispute ;  and  we  Americans 
have  no  resource  but  conformity,  unless  we  prefer  to  appear 
provincial.  English  usage  must  be  the  law  of  the  English 
tongue,  and  the  fashions  of  the  court  and  capital  are  the  standard 
of  usage. 

Among  the  authors  of  England,  I  had  desired  to  see  especially 
Mr.  Samuel  Rogers,  who  is  now  the  last  survivor  of  a  brilliant 
literary  epoch,  and  whose  long  familiarity  with  the  historical  per- 
sonages of  a  past  generation,  would  of  itself  be  enough  to  make 
him  a  man  of  note,  and  a  patriarch  in  the  republic  of  letters. 
Though  now  above  ninety  years  of  age,  he  still  renders  his  ele- 
gant habitation  an  attractive  resort,  and  I  was  indebted  to  him 
for  attentions  which  were  the  more  valuable,  as  he  was,  at  that 
time,  suffering  from  an  accident,  and  hence  peculiarly  entitled  to 
deny  himself  entirely  to  strangers.  His  house,  in  St.  James' s- 
street,  has  been  often  described,  and  its  beautiful  opening  on  the 
Green  Park  is  familiar  from  engravings.  Here  every  English- 
man of  literary  note,  during  the  last  half  century,  has  been  at 
some  time  a  guest,  and  if  its  walls  could  but  Bu^wellhe  the  wit 
which  they  have  heard  around  the  table  of  its  hospitable  master, 
no  collection  of  Memorabilia  with  which  the  world  is  acquainted, 
could  at  all  be  compared  with  it.     Here  I  met  the  aged  poet,  at 


132  IHPKESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

breakfast;  Sir  Charles  and  Lady  Lyell  completing  the  party. 
He  talked  of  the  past  as  one  to  whom  the  present  was  less  a 
reality,  and  it  seemed  strange  to  hear  him  speak  of  Mrs.  Piozzi, 
as  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  old  circle  at  Thrale's.  When  a  boy, 
he  rang  Dr.  Johnson's  bell,  in  Bolt  Court,  in  a  fit  of  ambition  to 
see  the  literary  colossus  of  the  time,  but  his  heart  failed  him  at 
the  sticking  point,  and  he  ran  away  before  the  door  was  opened. 
Possibly  the  old  sage  himself  responded  to  the  call,  and  as  he  re- 
tired in  a  fit  of  indignation,  moralizing  on  the  growing  imperti- 
nence of  the  age,  how  little  did  he  imagine  that  the  interruption 
was  a  signal  tribute  to  his  genius,  from  one  who,  in  the  middle  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  should  be  himself  an  object  of  veneration 
as  the  Nestor  of  Literature ! 


CHAPTER    XVII 


Oxford — Martyrs — Boat-race. 

My  reader  will  be  ready  to  forget  London  for  a  time ;  and 
perhaps  also  to  accompany  me  on  an  excursion.  I  went  to 
Oxford,  for  a  few  days,  to  keep  some  appointments,  and  found  it 
far  more  delightful  than  before,  as  the  men  were  all  up,  and 
everything  looking  bright  and  lively.  The  trees  in  the  gardens 
and  meadows  were  in  fine  leaf;  and  many  shrubs  in  full  blossom, 
so  that  what  Nature  has  done  for  Oxford  began  to  be  as  appa- 
rent as  the  enchantments  it  derives  from  Art.  In  the  gardens 
of  Exeter  College  I  observed  a  Virginia  creeper,  luxuriantly 
covering  the  walls,  and  had  a  good  opportunity  of  contrasting 
its  effect  with  that  of  the  ivy,  for  which,  in  our  country,  it  is  so 
generally  substituted.  It  is  certainly  more  cheerful,  but  lacks 
the  dignity  of  its  sullen  rival.  There  is  a  fig-tree  trained  against 
the  college  walls,  said  to  be  that  favourite  of  one  of  its  former 
worthies,  which  a  graceless  Soph  once  stripped  of  its  fruit, 
leaving  only  a  single  fig,  which  he  labelled,  "  a  fig  for  Dr. 
Kennicott."  Many  are  the  minor  traditions  of  Oxford,  of  a 
similar  sort.  Every  tree  and  shrub  seems  to  have  a  history, 
and  "green  memories"  are  here  something  more  than  a  figure  of 
speech. 

A  Sunday  at  Oxford  affords  one,  at  least,  the  opportunity  for 
constant  attendance  upon  Divine  Service.  I  went,  at  7  o'clock, 
to  St.  Mary's,  where  the  Holy  Eucharist  was  celebrated,  and 
where  I  thankfully  received  the  Sacrament,  with  a  considerable 
number  of  the  parishioners,  and  members  of  the  University. 
After  breakfast,  at  Jesus  College,  I  returned  to  St.  Mary's,  to 
hear  the  Bampton  Lecturer — Mr.  Wilson,  of  St.  John's.  The 
lecture   was   delivered,    of   course,   before   the   University,    the 


L34  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

Undergraduates  filling  the  gallery,  and  the  Dons  the  nave  below. 
The  lecturer,  preceded  by  the  bedels,  entered  in  company  with 
the  Vice-Chancellor,  to  whom  he  bowed,  as  he  turned  to  the 
pulpit  stairs.  Mounting  to  his  place,  and  covering  his  face  with 
his  cap,  he  offered  his  private  prayers,  and  then  began  the  bid- 
ding-prayers, in  the  usual  form — making  special  mention  of  St. 
John's  College,  and  of  its  benefactors,  "  such  as  were  Arch- 
bishop Laud,  etc."  But  let  no  one  imagine  that  this  was  an 
instance  of  spontaneous  reverence  for  the  Anglican  Cyprian,  for 
the  lecture  which  followed  might  have  moved  the  very  bones  of 
the  martyr  in  his  grave,  so  utterly  did  it  conflict  with  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Church.  It  was  evidently  received  with  great 
dissatisfaction.  It  was  decidedly  clever,  as  to  form  and  struc- 
ture ;  but  savoured  of  Bunsenism  quite  too  much  for  the  taste  of 
a  genuine  Churchman.  It  was  read  in  a  dull,  dry  manner,  more 
befitting  the  doctrine  than  the  occasion.  But,  I  must  own  that 
I  greatly  admire  this  way  of  University  preaching;  and  the 
freedom  of  a  sermon,  thus  delivered,  by  itself,  apart  from  the 
service,  and  as  a  distinct  thing,  having  its  own  time  and  object. 
Subsequently,  the  Church  having  been  emptied,  and  filled  again 
by  a  different  congregation,  the  parochial  service  and  sermon 
went  on  in  all  respects,  as  usual.  Then,  in  the  afternoon,  there 
was  a  sermon  before  the  University,  preceded  by  the  bidding- 
prayers,  as  in  the  morning ;  save  that  the  preacher  made  special 
mention  of  Oriel  College,  of  which  he  was  a  member,  com- 
memorating its  benefactors,  "  such  as  were  King  Edward  the 
Second,  etc."  Then  followed  a  powerful  sermon,  which  evi- 
dently produced  a  great  sensation.  The  Church  was  crowded, 
for  the  preacher  was  a  general  favourite.  His  manner  was  earnest, 
and  often  eloquent :  and,  in  tones  of  most  solemn  and  vigorous 
rebuke,  he  protested  against  the  slavish  dependence  to  which  the 
State  seemed  resolved  to  reduce  the  Church.  The  Gorham  case 
seemed  to  be  in  the  preacher's  mind,  and  perhaps  the  flagrant 
elevation  to  the  Episcopate  of  Dr.  Hampden. 

The  parochial  service  again  followed ;  after  which  I  dined  in 
the  Hall  of  Oriel,  where  I  met  the  preacher  among  his  old 
collegians,  and  greatly  enjoyed  the  company  in  general.  After 
dinner,  we  went  to  service  in  the  College  Chapel ;  and  after  this 
there  were  still  services  in  several  places,  though  I  did  not  attend 
them.  It  would  have  been  hard  to  have  named  an  hour  in  the 
whole  day  when  services  were  not  going  on  somewhere  in  this 
City  of  Holy  Places. 


NUNEHAil.  135 

In  the  Common-room  of  Oriel,  I  met  -with  a  very  agreeable 
person,  to  whom  I  owed  not  a  little  of  subsequent  pleasure,  and 
to  whom  I  became  warmly  attached.  At  his  instance,  during 
the  week,  I  substituted  the  more  recherche  pleasure  of  a  visit  to 
Nuneham  Courtenav,  for  the  more  ordinary  cockney  pilgrimage 
to  Blenheim.  I  went  in  his  company,  and  in  his  own  carriage, 
and  had  no  reason  to  regret  my  adoption  of  his  advice.  The 
grounds  of  Nuneham  are  proverbial  for  the  beauty  of  genuine 
English  landscape,  and  a  range  in  this  noble  park  affords  con- 
tinual prospects  of  cultivated  fields,  and  snug  hamlets,  and  the 
silvery  windings  of  the  Isis  through  the  meads.  The  gardens 
and  shrubbery  are  interspersed  with  urns  and  tablets  and  inscrip- 
tions, in  the  Shenstone  style,  and  among  them  I  observed  a 
cenotaph  of  the  poet  Mason.  The  taste  of  the  more  artificial 
charms  of  Nuneham  is  somewhat  antiquated,  and  smacks  of  the 
Hanoverian  age,  now  happily  departing:  but  it  does  one  good  to 
see  these  things,  as  illustrating  the  period  to  which  they  belong. 
I  was  all  the  time  thinking  of  Jemmy  Thomson,  as  I  rambled 
among  the  elms  and  yews  of  Nuneham ;  and  especially  when  I 
came  to  a  clump  of  those  spreading  beeches,  with  smooth  colum- 
nar trunks,  on  which  his  swains  were  wont  to  endite  their 
amatory  verses.  Glimpses  of  Oxford,  which  one  catches  now 
and  then,  add  a  special  charm  to  this  noble  demesne,  and  the 
Thames  glitters  here  and  there  in  the  view  to  enliven  a  broad 
survey  of  rural  scenery,  which  can  hardly  be  said  to  lack  any- 
thing appropriate  to  its  English  character.  The  Church  of 
Nuneham  is  the  grand  mistake.  It  looks  like  a  fane  erected  to 
the  goddess  of  the  wood,  by  some  ancient  Grecian,  and  provokes 
something  less  pleasing  than  a  smile,  when  one  learns  that  it  is 
the  successor  of  a  genuine  old  English  church,  which  was 
judged  a  blemish  to  the  classical  charms  of  the  house  and  gar- 
dens. Of  the  rectory,  although  it  is  of  modern  design,  I  can 
speak  with  more  satisfaction.  It  is  a  charming  residence,  such 
as  an  American  parson  seldom  inhabits,  but  which  one  loves  to 
see  others  enjoying,  and  adorning  with  every  domestic  grace.  Here 
we  lunched,  substantially,  concluding  our  repast  with  gooseberry- 
tart  and  cream,  such  as  no  one  ever  tastes  except  in  England ; 
thus  gaining  a  conception  of  the  rich  glebe  and  pasturage  of 
Nuneham,  which  a  more  sentimental  tourist  might  fail  to  carry 
away  from  a  mere  feast  of  the  eye. 

We  visited  the  parish-school,  and  I  was  particularly  struck 
with  the  neatness  and  order  of  the  little  academy,  and  not  less 


136  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

with  the  exactness  of  the  instruction.  The  children  of  the 
peasantry  were  the  scholars,  and,  instead  of  jackets,  the  boys 
nearly  all  wore  the  little  plaited  shirt  of  coarse  brown  linen,  so 
familiar  to  us  from  pictures,  but  so  unlike  anything  worn  by 
American  children,  however  humble  in  station.  They  were 
very  closely  examined  by  their  teachers,  and  their  answers  were 
generally  correct.  America  was  pointed  out  on  the  map,  and 
when  I  was  introduced  to  the  little  urchins  as  an  American,  it 
was  amusing  to  see  their  surprise.  They  seemed  to  pity  me  for 
living  so  very  far  away !  Then  they  were  catechized.  It  did 
me  good  to  hear  the  familiar  words,  so  often  uttered  by  little 
voices  around  the  chancel  rails  of  my  own  parish-church,  now 
repeated,  in  the  same  way,  by  these  little  English  Christians. 
Some  of  the  subsidiary  questions  amused  me,  and  not  less  the 
answers,  especially  those  under  the  phrase — "to  honour  and 
obey  the  Queen,  and  all  that  are  put  in  authority  under  her." 
Then  came  the  clause — "  to  order  myself  lowly  and  reverently 
to  all  my  betters.'*  "And  who  are  your  betters?"  asked  the 
master :  to  which,  "  Lady  Waldegrave,"  and  other  names  of  the 
gentle  inhabitants  of  Nuneham  Courtenay,  were  most  loyally 
responded.  In  practical  matters  of  a  more  strictly  religious 
character,  the  questions  and  replies  were  highly  gratifying,  and 
often  caused  the  tears  to  spring  in  my  eyes,  in  view  of  the  mani- 
fold blessings  which  such  instructions  cannot  fail  to  convey  to 
a  nation,  and  to  the  souls  of  all  who  receive  them.  Alas  !  for 
the  schools  of  our  country,  where  the  children  come  together 
under  the  blight  of  divers  creeds,  or  of  utter  unbelief,  and  where 
in  solemn  deference  to  the  spirit  of  sect  and  party,  religion  is 
daily  less  and  less  a  tolerated  element  in  the  training  of  immortal 
souls ! 

We  drove  pleasantly  back  to  Oxford,  passing  Sanford,  and 
Cowley,  and  Iffley,  and  stopping  at  the  Church  of  Littlemore, 
which  has  been  lately  much  improved,  and  in  which  we  found 
service  going  on.  A  drive  into  Oxford,  from  almost  any  direc- 
tion, cannot  fail  to  please,  so  inspiring  is  the  sight  of  the  city  it- 
self, and  our  return  from  Littlemore  afforded,  at  least  to  myself, 
some  new  and  charming  views  of  its  prominent  features,  which 
were  now  becoming  quite  familiar. 

For  several  days  I  lingered  in  the  bewitching  society  of  the 
University,  sharing  its  hospitalities,  and  daily  revelling  in  the 
inspection  of  its  curiosities  and  antiquities.  With  what  a  spell 
does  the  enjoyment  of  those  mornings  and  evenings  revive  in  my 


ENTERTAINMENTS.  137 

fancy  as  I  write.  A  breakfast-party  at  Merton,  the  cool  breeze 
of  the  morn  coming  in  at  the  windows,  fragrant  from  the 
meadows ;  an  extemporary  lunch  in  the  crypts  of  St.  John's, 
tapping  the  college  beer,  and  inspecting  the  ancient  masonry  of 
its  Gothic  vaults,  once  the  substructions  of  a  monastery ;  a  din- 
ner in  the  lordly  hall  of  Magdalen,  with  dessert  and  conversation 
in  the  Common-room ;  an  evening  party  at  Oriel,  among  wits, 
and  poets,  and  divines !  Who  would  not  allow  that  such  are 
substantial  pleasures,  realizing  "  those  Attic  nights,  and  refections 
of  the  gods,"  of  which  our  fancy  is  full,  in  the  earlier  enthu- 
siasm of  classical  pursuits !  And  then  the  discourse  was  so 
animating  and  refreshing.  No  hackney  talk  of  dull  common- 
place sentiment,  or  of  small-beer  literature ;  but  a  roving,  hap- 
hazard, review  of  grave  and  gay  together ;  a  deep  and  earnest 
discussion  of  religious  themes ;  a  sprightly  dash  into  politics ; 
quick  questions  and  replies  about  America,  and  republics,  and 
democracies;  illustrative  quotations  of  a  fresh  and  spontaneous 
character,  often  garnished  with  some  ingenious  misapplication, 
or  original  supply  of  words,  for  the  sake  of  sport ;  a  sharp  de- 
bate about  the  civil  wars ;  a  dissection  of  Macaulay ;  a  clever 
story  of  old  Parr;  and  reviving  anecdotes  of  Oxford  and  old 
times ;  with  a  glow  of  kindly  and  religious  feeling  in  all,  without 
cant  or  ostentation ;  these  were  the  filling  up  of  successive  days 
and  nights  in  those  halls  and  chambers  of  dear,  dear  Oxford, 
which  I  cannot  remember  without  a  grateful  thrill,  and  which  I 
can  only  put  aside  from  covetous  regret,  by  calm  faith  that  "  it  is 
more  blessed  to  give  than  receive."  After  all,  it  is  in  every  way 
more  worthy  of  a  Christian,  to  toil  in  the  wilderness,  than  to 
recline  in  the  bowers,  and  to  enter  into  the  labours  of  by-gone 
generations.  Yes — dear  as  are  the  delights  of  a  life  in  academic 
shades,  and  unparalleled  as  are  the  advantages  of  mind  and  body 
with  which  Oxford  ennobles  her  children,  I  would  prefer  a 
Divinity  chair  at  Nashotah,  to  a  fellowship  at  Magdalen,  or  to  the 
richest  benefice  which  the  University  can  bestow.  It  is  hazard- 
ous to  enjoy  too  much ;  and  how  great  the  responsibility  in  such 
a  world  as  this,  of  receiving  anything  for  which  we  may  foil  to 
make  a  return  to  God  and  men,  and  which  must  go  to  make  our 
stewardship  more  fearful,  against  the  day  of  account ! 

We  have  gifts  differing.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  insinuate  that 
the  life  of  an  Oxford  Fellow  is  ordinarily  an  idle  or  useless  one. 
Many  of  them  are  as  laborious  and  as  useful  men  as  ever  wrote 
or  thought,  and  great  are  the  blessings  which  they  diffuse  around 


138  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

them.  Too  often  have  their  generous  hospitalities  been  mistaken 
for  habitual  self-indulgences;  and  even  guests  who  have  tasted 
their  wine  without  a  murmur,  have  sometimes  gone  away  to 
complain  of  convivialities,  of  which  they  were  themselves  the 
exacting  proponents.  But  when  the  question  is  not  as  to  them, 
but  as  to  ourselves,  Ave  are  surely  at  liberty  to  prefer  our  humbler 
and  less  favoured  lot !  Shall  we  repine  because  we  are  Ameri- 
cans, and  because  we  shall  never  live  to  see  an  Oxford  in  our 
own  dear  country  ?  God  forbid !  I  love  to  think  that  it  is 
theirs  to  enjoy,  and  mine  only  to  remember;  and  that  if  toil  and 
self-denial  are  the  lot  of  an  American  clergyman,  he  is,  neverthe- 
less, fulfilling  a  mission  more  immediately  like  that  of  his  glorious 
Master,  and  less  fraught  with  temptations  to  make  one's  heaven 
this  side  the  grave. 

I  had  seen  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Samuel  Rogers. 
There  was  one  whom  I  desired  to  see  besides,  and  on  some  ac- 
counts, with  deeper  interest,  to  complete  my  hold  upon  the  sur- 
viving past.  For  sixty  years  had  Dr.  Routh  been  president  of 
Magdalen,  and  still  his  faculties  were  strong,  and  actively  en- 
gaged in  his  work.  I  saw  him  in  his  97th  year ;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  I  had  gone  back  a  century,  or  was  talking  with  a  reverend 
divine,  of  the  olden  time,  who  had  stepped  out  of  a  picture- 
frame.  He  sat  in  his  library,  in  gown  and  bands,  wearing  a 
wig,  and  altogether  impressing  me  as  the  most  venerable  figure  I 
had  ever  beheld.  .  Nothing  couH  exceed  his  cordiality  and 
courtesy,  and,  though  I  feared  to  prolong  my  visit,  his  earnest- 
ness in  conversation  more  than  once  repressed  my  endeavour  to 
rise.  He  remembered  our  colonial  clergy,  and  related  the 
whole  story  of  Bishop  Seabury's  visit,  and  of  his  application  to 
the  Scottish  Church,  which  Dr.  Routh  himself  first  suggested. 
1  And  now,'  said  I,  '  we  have  thirty  Bishops  and  1,500  clergy.' 
He  lifted  his  aged  hands,  and  said,  "  I  have,  indeed,  lived  to  see 
wonders,"  and  he  added  devout  expressions  of  gratitude  to  God, 
and  many  inquiries  concerning  our  Church.  I  had  carried  an 
introduction  to  him  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jarvis,  and  at  the  same 
time,  announced  the  death  of  that  lamented  scholar  and  divine, 
whose  funeral  I  had  attended  a  few  days  before  I  sailed  from 
America.  He  spoke  of  him  with  affection  and  regret,  and  also 
referred  to  his  great  regard  for  Bishop  Hobart.  I  could  not  say 
farewell  to  such  a  patriarch,  in  the  meaningless  forms  of  ordinary 
intercourse,  and,  as  I  rose  to  depart,  I  craved  his  blessing,  and 
humbly  knelt  to  receive  it.     He  placed  his  venerable  hand  upon 


DR.   ROUTH.  139 

mv  head,  and  said — ';  God  Almighty  bless  you,  for  Jesus  Christ's 
sake,"  and  so  I  took  my  departure,  with  my  heart  full,  and  with 
tears  in  my  eyes. 

Going,  quite  alone,  to  St.  John's  College.  I  indulged  myself  in 
delightful  meditations  as  I  lounged  in  its  gardens,  and  watched 
the  young  gownsmen  shooting  arrows  at  a  target,  or  enjoying 
themselves  about  the  walks.  I  went  into  the  quadrangle,  that 
munificent  monumftit  of  Laud's  affection  for  his  beloved  college. 
1  passed  on  to  the  chapel.  The  door  was  not  locked,  and  I  en- 
tered it  alone.  Beneath  the  altar  lies  the  Archbishop's  mutilate  I 
corpse ;  and  there,  too,  lies  the  stainless  Juxon,  whom  he  loved 
so  well,  and  who  served  the  last  moments  of  Charles  the  First 
with  the  holv  offices  of  the  Church.  I  gave  myself  up  to  the 
powerful  impressions  of  the  spot,  and  spent  a  few  minutes  in  very 
solemn  meditations.  In  the  library  of  the  college  I  afterwards 
eaw  the  pastoral  crook  of  the  martyred  Primate;  the  little  staff 
which  supported  his  tottering  steps  on  the  scaffold,  and  the  cap 
which  covered  his  venerable  head  only  a  few  minutes  before  it 
fell  from  the  block. 

In  the  street,  before  Balliol  College,  the  martyrs  Latimer  and 
Ridley  were  burned.  Perhaps  the  precise  spot  is  not  known  ; 
but  among  the  paving-stones,  there  is  fixed  in  the  earth  a  little 
cross,  sunk  to  a  level  with  the  street,  and  simply  designating  the 
supposed  site  of  the  stake.  It  was  one  of  my  pleasures,  during 
this  visit  to  Oxford,  to  meet  with  Bishop  Otey.  then  just  arrived 
from  America ;  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  conducting  that  excel- 
lent missionary  prelate  to  this  sacred  spot  of  suffering  for  Christ. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  uncovered  his 
head,  as  he  stood  there,  and  blessed  God  for  the  testimony  of  His 
Martyrs ;  and  I  am  sure  he  will  forgive  this  allusion  to  the  scene, 
for  it  greatly  impressed  me  at  the  time,  and  even  now  seems  very 
striking.  ••  AVe  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle,  by  Grod's 
grace,  as  shall  never  be  put  out" — said  old  Latimer  to  Ridley,  in 
155.5.  and  in  spite  of  tire  and  faggot,  and  Armada,  and  Gun- 
powder plot,  and  Father  Petrie.  and  Father  Newman,  there  stood 
in  1851.  the  Bishop  of  Tennessee,  blessing  God  for  the  light  of 
that  candle  in  the  wilds  of  America  !  A  superb  memorial  of  the 
three  Oxford  Martyrs  stands  not  far  from  the  place  where  they 
suffered — and  should  have  stood  just  here,  where  it  would  have 
been  more  conspicuous  and  appropriate — but  I  felt  that  such  an 
incident  far  more  powerfully  attested  the  prophecy.  How 
strange  it  seemed,   in  St.  Mary's,   on  the  preceding  Sunday,  to 


140  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

reflect  that  from  those  very  aisles,  not  longer  since  than  three 
such  lives  as  Dr.  Routh's  might  measure,  the  venerable  Primate 
of  all  England  had  been  ruthlessly  dragged  forth,  by  the  hands 
of  brethren  in  the  priesthood,  and  by  the  same  hands  burnt  to 
death,  hard  by,  with  the  mockery  of  thanksgiving  to  God,  and 
in  the  name  of  zeal  for  His  glory !  Truly,  Rome  may  thank 
herself  for  the  abhorrence  with  which  the  universal  Anglo-Saxon 
race  (among  whom  a  few  emasculate  exceptions  are  not  to  be 
reckoned.)  regard  alike  her  blandishments  and  her  cruelties. 

How  rapidly  flew  the  hours  in  which  I  lounged  in  the  Bod- 
leian and  other  libraries,  or  went  from  college  to  college,  to  in- 
spect its  pictures  and  antiquities !  Here,  a  manuscript  of  Cced- 
mon,  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  professor  kindly  interpreted  to  me 
as  I  inspected  it ;  and  there,  a  Chaucer,  and  "  the  Game  of 
Chesse/'  from  the  primitive  press  of  Caxton,  exposed  to  my  ad- 
miring gaze  the  small  beginnings  of  the  wonderful  Literature  of 
the  English  tongue.  In  the  Ashmolean  Museum  I  beheld,  with 
still  greater  reverence,  the  jewel  once  worn  by  the  immortal  Alfred, 
to  which  I  felt  that  Victoria's  Koh-i-noor  was  but  a  twinkling 
and  lack-lustre  pendant.  In  the  curious  old  muniment-room  of 
Merton,  I  was  scarcely  less  pleased  to  behold  the  venerable 
charters  and  patents,  engrossed  in  ancient  characters,  and  sealed 
with  quaint  historic  seals,  by  which  their  lands  and  hereditaments 
are  still  retained,  and  from  which  the  whole  Collegiate  System 
of  Oxford  is  derived.  The  chapel  of  this  charming  college  is 
worthy  of  the  noble  foundation  to  which  it  belongs ;  and,  as  my 
amiable  cicerone  was  an  accomplished  architectural  artist  and  an- 
tiquarian, I  was  not  allowed  to  inspect  its  details  superficially. 
His  own  hand  had,  very  recently,  restored  the  elaborate  decora- 
tions of  the  vaulting,  in  beautiful  colours  and  designs ;  and  he 
appeared  to  appreciate  the  high  privilege  which  he  had  enjoyed, 
of  mingling  his  own  handiwork,  in  this  manner,  with  that  of  an- 
cient  and  inventive  genius.  His  mediaeval  tastes  had  perhaps 
become  a  hobby  with  him ;  I  observed,  with  pain,  some  morbid 
symptoms  of  unreality  in  his  excessive  devotion  to  the  mere 
aesthetics  of  religion ;  but  did  not  then  suppose,  as  since  has 
proved  the  sad  result,  that  he  was  destined  to  add  another  to 
those  children  of  the  captivity,  who,  by  the  rivers  of  Babylon, 
have  so  estranged  themselves  from  Sion,  that  their  tongue  seems 
indeed  to  have  been  smitten  with  the  palsy  of  untruth,  and  their 
right  hand  to  have  forgotten  its  cunning. 

I  saw,  one  pleasant  evening,  the  first  boat-race  of  the  season. 


OXFORD   BOAT-RACE.  141 

Going  into  Christ  Church  Meadows,  in  company  with  several 
gownsmen,  we  soon  joined  a  crowd  of  under-graduates,  and 
others  who  were  seeking  the  banks  of  the  Isis.  The  rival  boats 
were  still  far  up  the  stream,  but  here  we  found  their  flags  dis- 
played upon  a  staff,  one  above  the  other,  in  the  order  of  their 
respective  merit,  at  the  last  rowing  match.  The  flag  of  Wadham 
waved  triumphant,  and  the  brilliant  colours  of  Balliol,  Christ 
Church,  Exeter,  etc.,  fluttered  scarce  less  proudly  underneath. 
What  an  animated  scene  those  walks  and  banks  exhibited,  as  the 
numbers  thickened,  and  the  flaunting  robes  of  the  young  acade- 
mics began  to  be  seen  in  dingy  contrast  with  the  gayer  silks  and 
streamers  of  the  fair  !  Even  town,  as  well  as  gown,  had  sent 
forth  its  representatives,  and  you  would  have  said  some  mighty 
i?sue  was  about  to  be  decided,  had  you  heard  their  interchange 
of  breathless  query  and  reply.  A  distant  gun  announced  that 
the  boats  had  started,  and  crowds  began  to  gather  about  a  bridge, 
in  the  neighbouring  fields,  where  it  was  certain  they  would  soon 
be  seen,  in  all  the  speed  and  spirit  of  the  contest.  Crossing  the 
little  river  in  a  punt,  and  yielding  to  the  enthusiasm  which  now 
filled  the  hearts  and  faces  of  all  spectator.-,  away  I  flew  towards 
the  bridge,  and  had  scarcely  gained  it  when  the  boats  appeared — 
Wadham  still  ahead,  but  hotly  pressed  by  Balliol,  which  in  turn 
was  closely  followed  by  the  crews  of  divers  other  colleges,  all 
pulling  for  dear  life,  while  their  friends,  on  either  bank,  ran  at 
their  side,  shouting  the  most  inspiriting  outcries  !  The  boats  were 
of  the  sharpest  and  narrowest  possible  build,  with  out-rigged 
thole-pins  for  the  oars.  The  rowers,  in  proper  boat-dress,  or 
rather  undress,  (close-fitting  flannel  shirt  and  drawers.)  were  lash- 
ing the  water  with  inimitable  strokes,  and  '•  putting  their  back" 
into  their  sport,  as  if  every  man  was  indeed  determined  to  do  his 
duty.  "Now,  Wadham!''  "Now,  Balliol!"  "  Well  pulled, 
Christ  Church  !"  with  deafening  hurrahs,  and  occasional  peals  of 
laughter,  made  the  welkin  ring  again.  I  found  myself  running 
and  shouting  with  the  merriest  of  them.  Several  boats  were  but 
a  few  feet  apart,  and  stroke  after  stroke  not  one  gained  upon 
another,  perceptibly.  Where  there  was  the  least  gain,  it  was 
astonishing  to  see  the  pluck  with  which  both  winner  and  loser 
seemed  to  start  afresh ;  while  redoubled  cries  of  "  Xow  for  it, 
Merton,"  u  Well  done,  Corpus,"  and  even  "  Go  it,  again" — which 
I  had  supposed  an  Americanism — were  vociferated  from  the  banks. 
All  at  once — "  a  bump !"  and  the  defeated  boat  fell  aside,  while 
the  victors  pressed  on  amid  roars  of  applause.    The  chief  interest, 


142  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

however,  was,  of  course,  concentrated  about  "Wadham,"  the 
leader,  now  evidently  gained  upon  by  "  Ealliol."  It  was  in- 
deed most  exciting  to  watch  the  half-inch  losses  which  the  former 
was  experiencing  at  every  stroke  !  The  goal  was  near  ;  but  the 
plucky  Balliol  crew  was  not  to  be  distanced.  A  stroke  or  two 
of  fresh  animation  and  energy  sends  their  bow  an  arm's  length 
forward.  "  Hurrah,  Balliol !"  "  once  more " — "  a  bump  !" 
"'Hurrah-ah-ah  !"  and  a  general  cheer  from  all  lungs,  with  hands 
waving  and  caps  tossing,  and  everything  betokening  the  wildest 
excitement  of  spirits,  closed  the  contest ;  while  amid  the  uproar 
the  string  of  flags  came  down  from  the  tall  staff,  and  soon  went 
up  again,  with  several  transpositions  of  the  showy  colours — 
"VVadham's  little  streamer  now  fluttering  paulo-post ;  but  victorious 
Balliol  flaunting  proudly  over  all.  It  was  growing  dark ;  and  it 
was  surprising  how  speedily  the  crowd  dispersed,  and  how  soon 
all  that  frenzy  of  excitement  had  vanished  like  the  bubbles  on 
the  river. 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 


Iffley — A  Drive  Across  the  Country, 

A  visit  to  Magdalen  School,  and  a  subsequent  dinner  with  the 
scholars,  (who  are  the  singers  in  the  chapel),  was  another  of  my 
pleasures,  from  which  I  derived  fresh  convictions  of  the  superior 
training  of  English  school-boys,  alike  in  physical,  mental,  and 
moral  discipline.  Everything  was  done  with  method  and  pre- 
cision. The  boys  looked  fresh  and  rosy,  and  perfectly  happy,  and 
pet  their  master  was  as  evidently  strict  with  them,  as  he  was  also 
kind.  Some  of  them  will  win  scholarships  in  the  college,  and 
from  that,  fellowships;  and  so  will  make  their  way  to  the  highest 
posts  of  honour  and  usefulness,  for  which  they  will  be  thoroughly 
furnished  in  all  respects.  There  is  a  new  Educational  College  at 
Radley,  several  miles  from  Oxford,  of  which  the  projector  and 
founder  is  the  well-known  Mr.  Sewcll,  of  Exeter — by  whose 
kind  invitation  I  went  out,  one  day,  to  visit  it.  I  was  kindly 
accompanied  by  a  distinguished  Fellow  of  Oriel,  who  with  several 
young  men,  whom  he  had  enlisted  for  the  purpose,  gave  me  a  row 
up  the  Thames  to  Iffley.  We  took  our  boat,  in  Christ  Church 
meadows,  and  so  went  over  the  scene  of  the  race  which  I  havo 
endeavoured  to  describe.  I  was  unfortunately  made  steersman, 
and  more  than  once  found  myself  running  the  bow  of  the  boat 
into  the  bushes,  while  I  stared  around  me,  at  every  beast  and 
bird,  and  at  every  wall,  and  every  bush,  and  at  every  green  thing, 
with  a  greener  look  no  doubt,  to  my  unlucky  companions;  than 
anything  in  the  scene  besides.  It  was  the  Thames — or  the  Isis 
if  you  please — it  was  the  river  of  the  Oxonians;  and  I  lost 
myself,  in  contemplations,  on  the  most  trifling  suggestion  of  nov- 
elty, or  of  age,  which  surrounding  objects  presented.  This  little 
voyage  was  realizing  to  me  the  dreams  of  many  years ;  and  when 


144  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

we  landed  near  the  picturesque  old  mill,  with  which  so  many 
drawings  and  engravings  have  made  every  one  acquainted,  I  felt 
that  anything  but  my  pilotage  was  to  be  credited  with  our  escape 
from  shipwreck.  My  conscience  accuses  me  of  having  paid  atten- 
tion to  everything  except  my  immediate  duty. 

Iffley  Church,  as  every  Ecclesiologist  will  tell  you,  is  a  study 
of  itself.  Five  windows  in  this  Church  are  said  to  present  the 
characteristics  of  five  periods  of  pointed  architecture,  extending 
through  as  many  centuries ;  while  the  details  of  enrichment  and 
design  afford  innumerable  specimens  of  inventive  art,  embracing 
somewhat  of  the  rude  and  elemental  Saxon,  with  the  riper  and 
more  varied  beauties  of  Norman  embellishment.  The  church  is 
supposed  to  have  been  built  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  twelfth 
century;  it  affords  many  interesting  examples  of  subsequent 
alteration  and  repair ;  and  has  lately  received  much  attention,  in 
the  way  of  retouching  and  restoring  its  olden  beauties.  In  the 
churchyard  is  the  remnant  of  its  ancient  cross,  and  also  a  yew 
tree  scarcely  less  aged,  but  much  decayed.  The  font,  which 
stands  near  the  door,  is  of  large  dimensions  and  of  very  curious 
construction,  generally  supposed  to  be  Norman,  and  of  the  same 
date  with  the  Church.  Although  the  beautiful  interior  retains 
some  useless  appendages  of  mediaeval  rites  no  longer  practised,  it 
is  a  most  fitting  and  becoming  Anglo-Catholic  church,  and  one  in 
every  way  satisfactory,  as  it  stands,  to  the  purposes  of  the  English 
Liturgy.  Without  and  within,  it  was,  at  the  time  I  visited  it,  the 
most  interesting  object  of  its  kind  which  I  had  ever  seen. 

On  resuming  our  boat,  which  had  been  lifted  above  the  dam  by 
means  of  a  lock,  Ave  rowed  about  a  mile  further  up  the  river,  and 
then,  taking  to  the  fields,  went  across  them  to  Radley.  Here  I 
met  Mr.  Sewell,  and  went  with  him  to  see  Radley  Church,  a 
picturesque  little  temple,  and  then  over  his  college,  chapel  and 
grounds.  This  college  is  a  very  interesting  experiment,  and  aims 
to  combine,  on  a  plan  somewhat  novel,  several  important  elements 
of  academic  and  religious  life.  The  taste  which  has  presided  over 
its  establishment  is  very  apparent,  and  not  less  the  benevolence 
and  piety  of  its  founder.  I  was  surprised  to  find  it,  although  so 
entirely  new,  presenting  everywhere  the  appearance  of  age  and 
completeness.  The  architecture  of  the  chapel  especially,  though 
plain  in  comparison  with  that  of  almost  all  older  structures  of  a 
similar  kind,  is  yet  very  effective ;  and  the  service,  as  performed 
in  it,  by  the  aid  of  the  pupils,  was  exceedingly  inspiring  and 
refreshing.     After  a  visit  which  I  was  kindly  led  to  protract 


BAGLEY   WOOD.  145 

beyond  my  intent.  I  returned  to  Oxford  on  foot,  in  the  company 
of  Mr.  SewelL  Our  path  lay  through  Bagley-Wood,  and  never 
shall  I  forget  the  charming  conversational  powers  of  my  guide,  or 
the  pleasure  of  wandering,  with  such  a  companion,  through  the 
tangled  and  briery  copse,  and  intervening  glades  of  that  academic 
forest.  At  last  we  struck  the  Abingdon  road,  and  entered 
Oxford  by  the  bridge  under  the  Tower  of  Magdalen. 

Amid  so  many  recollections  of  a  graver  character,  there  is  one 
connected  with  Oxford  which  never  revives  without  exciting  a 
jmile.  I  went  one  day  into  the  House  of  Convocation,  where  the 
Vice-chancellor  was  conferring  degrees,  in  a  business  way,  very 
few,  besides  those  immediately  interested,  being  present.  Among 
the  candidates  was  one  very  portly  individual,  who,  either  from 
his  advancing  years,  or  because  of  some  new  preferment,  had  felt 
it  his  duty  to  incur  the  expense  of  being  made,  in  course,  a  Doc- 
tor of  Divinity.  It  was  evidently  many  years  since  the  proposing 
Doctor  had  been  familiar  with  University  forms  and  ceremonies ; 
and  it  appeared  to  me  that  some  very  rustic  parish  had  probably, 
in  the  meantime,  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  his  services.  "When  the 
performance  required  him  to  do  this,  or  that,  it  was  apparent  that 
the  worthy  divine  was  not  a  little  confused,  while  it  was  still  more 
painfully  clear,  that  his  confusion  afforded  anything  but  feelings 
of  regret  to  the  junior  portion  of  the  academical  body  which  sur- 
rounded him.  When  required  to  kneel  before  a  very  youthful 
looking  proctor,  an  audible  titter  went  the  rounds,  as  his  burly 
figure  sank  to  the  floor,  amid  the  balloons  of  silk  in  which  he 
was  invested,  to  say  nothing  of  the  gaudy  colours  which  he  now 
wore,  for  the  first  time,  with  ill-suppressed  satisfaction.  But  the 
Oath  of  Abjuration  was  to  be  administered,  and  this  proved  the 
most  critical  part  of  the  proceedings :  for,  oath  as  it  was,  it  was 
made  almost  a  farcical  formality,  by  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
taken.  As  this  oath  is  a  little  antiquated,  at  any  rate,  and  seems 
hardly  demanded  by  the  present  relations  between  a  powerful 
sovereign  and  the  mere  shadow  of  a  pontiff  who  now  apes  Hilde- 
brand,  on  the  Seven  Hills,  it  would  seem  good  taste  to  go  through 
with  it  with  as  little  display  of  furious  Protestantism  as  possible. 
So  evidently  thought  the  proctor,  but  not  so  the  Doctor  elect, 
whose  powerful  imagination  probably  suggested  to  him  that 
Victoria  was  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  Dr.  Wiseman  a  Babbington, 
as  no  doubt  he  is.  If  her  Majesty  labours  under  similar  impres- 
sions, she  has  at  least  one  loyal  subject,  and  it  would  have  done 
her  heart  good  to  have  heard  the  utterance  of  his  loyalty  on  this 

7 


146  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

occasion ;  for  with  most  earnest  emphasis  did  he  swear,  that  "  he 
did  from  his  heart  detest  and  abjure,  as  impious  and  heretical,, 
that  damnable  doctrine  and  position,  that  princes  excommuni- 
cated by  the  Pope,  may  be  deposed  or  murthered  by  their  subjects,'''' 
&c,  &c.  So,  no  doubt,  thought  and  felt  all  present ;  but  as  the 
Doctor  seemed  to  consider  himself,  for  the  moment,  a  sort  of 
Abdiel,  and  spoke  with  an  epic  dignity  somewhat  unusual  to  the 
Convocation  house,  it  was  irresistibly  ludicrous  to  behold  the 
smothered  merriment  of  the  youthful  Oxonians,  who  shook  their 
sides  while  the  Doctor  fulmined,  and  who  seemed  to  think  both 
him  and  the  Pope  a  little  too  old  for  Young  England  and  the  nine- 
teenth century. 

My  excursion  to  Nuneham  Courtenay  proved  but  the  preface 
to  a  much  more  important  episode,  in  company  with  the  same 
agreeable  friend  who  was  my  guide  on  that  occasion,  and  who 
now  drew  me  into  a  change  of  plans  and  purposes,  to  which  I 
owed  much  subsequent  pleasure.  We  were  at  breakfast  together, 
in  the  rooms  of  a  common  friend  at  Merton,  when  the  scheme 
was  perfected  for  a  drive  through  Oxfordshire,  in  his  private  car- 
riage, and  for  several  subsequent  excursions,  of  which  the  centre 
should  be  his  residence,  near  Cheltenham.  A  friend,  then  keep- 
ing his  terms  for  a  Master's  degree,  at  New  Inn  Hall,  gave  us  his 
company  for  a  few  hours,  on  the  way ;  and  a  delightful  compan- 
ion he  proved,  not  only  for  his  essential  qualities  as  such,  but 
because  he  happened  to  have  been  a  tourist  in  America,  and  was 
able  to  imagine,  in  some  degree,  how  an  American  must  regard 
the  contrast  continually  furnished  him  by  a  tour  in  England. 
Our  road  first  took  us  over  a  corner  of  Berkshire,  through  a  pleas- 
ing variety  of  hills  and  vales,  sighting  Cumnor  on  the  left,  and 
passing  AVytham  on  the  other  hand,  and  so  again  entering 
Oxfordshire,  by  a  bridge  over  the  Thames,  which  here  makes  a 
bend  among  the  little  mountains.  Our  first  stage  was  complete 
when  we  arrived  at  Eynsham,  where  we  drew  up  at  the  village 
inn,  and  contrived  to  pass  an  hour  very  pleasantly,  although,  from 
the  appearance  of  the  place,  one  would  say,  at  first,  it  was  fit  only 
to  sleep  in.  How  quiet  a  village  can  be,  even  in  populous  and 
busy  England,  and  so  hard  by  Oxford !  There  stood  the  slender 
market-cross  that  had  survived  the  storms  of  centuries,  and  the 
more  violent  batterings  of  Puritan  iconoclasts.  Broken  and 
bruised  as  it  was,  it  seemed  good  for  centuries  more,  amid  so 
peaceful  a  community  as  now  surrounds  its  venerable  tutelage. 
Whether  the  exemplary  character  of  the  present  inhabitants  be 


PARISH   STOCKS.  147 

owing  at  all  to  the  parish  stocks,  which  stand  near  the  cross,  in 
most  Hudibrastic  grouping  with  surrounding  objects,  I  cannot 
determine  ;  but  there  they  are,  and  I  could  fancy  a  stout  brace 
of  Puritans,  of  Butler's  sort,  undergoing  its  salutary  penance;  or 
even  one  of  Hogarth's  unlucky  wights  experiencing  the  rude 
sympathies  of  men  and  boys  in  the  passiveness  of  its  bondage, 
How  speaking  a  picture  of  rigorous  parochial  justice  those  queer 
old  stocks,  under  lee  of  the  market-house,  afforded  to  my  imagina- 
tion !  How  many  vagrant  feet  and  ankles  have  there  been  relieved 
from  the  curse  of  Cain !  how  many  a  vagabond  they  have  furnished 
with  persuasives  to  rest  and  meditation !  Really — one  could  not 
be  properly  pensive,  in  sight  of  such  a  commentary  on  human 
guilt  and  misery :  for  the  parish  stocks  are  but  of  distant  kin  to 
gallows  and  guillotine,  and  hardly  more  than  little  brothers  of 
whipping-post  and  pillory ;  their  ignominy  being  rather  that  of 
ridicule  than  of  scorn,  and  their  severity  being  the  very  least  of 
all  the  penalties  of  law.  I  did  not  know  that  such  instruments  of 
wholesome  discipline  were  still  in  existence  under  the  English 
sceptre,  and  hence  my  amusement  and  surprise  to  behold  them, 
and  to  find  so  many  memories  of  their  history  reviving  at  the 
sight ;  among  which  were  prominent  those  classical  verses  of  the 
Anti-Jacobin — 

"  Justice  Oldmixen  put  me  in  the  parish- 
Stocks,  for  a  vagrant." 

Verily  a  queer  old  place  is  Eynsham,  from  the  days  of  King 
Ethelred,  the  Unready,  who  had  a  villa  here,  and  those  of  King 
Stephen,  who  gave  it  the  very  equivocal  privilege  of  a  market 
"  on  the  Lord's  day,"  under  the  patronage  of  its  Abbot  and  its 
monks.  On  inquiring  for  the  remains  of  the  Abbey,  we  were 
informed  that  some  new  relics  of  its  ancient  chapel  and  cemetery 
had  just  been  discovered  in  a  neighbouring  field.  AYe  had  there- 
fore the  pleasure  of  seeing,  sure  enough,  the  encaustic  tiles  of  its 
sanctuary,  just  laid  bare,  after  ages  of  concealment  in  the  earth. 
They  were  of  various  patterns  and  devices,  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon  forming,  apparently,  a  conspicuous  part  of  the  design. 
But  the  old  gardener  who  showed  us  these  discoveries,  went  on 
to  tell  us  that  in  digging  further,  he  had  just  laid  bare  some  frames 
which  he  should  like  to  have  us  see,  and  so  leading  us  to  another 
part  of  the  ground,  he  showed  us  the  frames,  indeed,  which 
proved  to  be  nothing  less  than  the  skeletons  of  the  old  monks  of 
Eynsham,  protruding  from  their  graves.     Often  had  these  same 


143  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

"frames"  sung  in  the  choir,  and  walked  over  those  same  tiles  we 
had  just  been  viewing.  How  old  they  might  be  we  could  not  say ; 
but  they  were  the  bones  of  old  Christians,  and  most  probably  of 
Christian  priests,  and  there  they  had  been  laid  in  hope  of  the 
Insurrection,  so  that  it  seemed  to  me  almost  profane  to  be 
staring  at  them,  as  if  they  were  a  show.     Hequiescant  in  pace. 

The  village  church  had  been  an  appurtenance  of  the  Abbey, 
and  was,  no  doubt,  comely  in  its  day.  It  had  suffered  not  a  little, 
however,  from  whitewash,  and  other  Churchwarden-isms.  There 
had  evidently  been  a  fine  rood-loft,  but  every  vestige  of  it  was 
gone,  save  that  there  was  the  solid  stair-way  in  the  wall,  and 
there  again  the  door-way,  still  open,  through  which  the  ancient 
Gospeller  used  to  make  his  appearance  in  the  loft,  to  read  the 
Holy  Evangel  for  the  day.  'Poor  fellow,'  thought  I,  'when 
did  he  climb  those  steps,  and  issue  from  that  door,  for  the  last 
time?  Was  he  indeed  a  Gospeller,  grateful  for  chance  there- 
after to  read  the  "Word  of  God,  in  the  vulgar  tongue ;  or  was  he 
some  Marian  Monk,  who  had  raked  the  coals  about  Latimer  and 
Ridley,  in  Oxford,  and  who  trembled,  while  he  sung  his  Latin 
Missal,  lest  the  news  of  Elizabeth's  accession  should  prove  too 
true?'  How  strange  it  would  seem  to  an  American  priest, to  find 
himself  officiating,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  in  a  church  whose  very 
walls  are  a  monument,  not  only  of  the  Reformation,  but  of 
"  Hereford  Use,"  and  "  Salisbury  Use,"  or  other  usages  now  for- 
ever superseded,  but  which  had  a  long  existence,  and  have  left 
their  mark,  alike  in  stone  and  timber,  and  in  the  vernacular 
Liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England  ! 

We  left  the  little  village,  and  pursued  our  journey  very  pleas- 
antly till  we  met  the  Oxford  coach  coming  down,  in  full  drive, 
but  stopping  as  we  hailed  it,  in  behalf  of  our  friend  of  New  Inn 
Hall.  He  was  obliged  to  return,  for  sleeping  a  single  night  out 
of  Oxford,  during  his  term,  would  disqualify  him  for  his  degrees. 
So  we  reluctantly  saw  him  climb  to  a  lofty  seat,  among  a  motley 
crew  of  passengers,  and  whirl  away,  as  we  waved  him  our  adieu. 
We  continued  our  journey  to  Witney,  where  again  we  paused,  to 
survey  its  ancient  cruciform  Church — which  would  make  a  fine 
cathedral  in  America — and  to  take  our  luncheon  wTith  the  good 
vicar,  who  received  us  very  hospitably.  I  was  surprised  at  the 
greatness  of  the  Church,  and  the  beauty  of  many  of  its  details,  but 
I  believe  it  was  once  an  Abbey  Church,  and  its  architectural 
merits  are  such  as  to  have  furnished  not  a  few  favourite  examples 
to  ecclesiological  publications.     The  village  itself  is  a  decayed 


A  BOOR.  149 

one,  having  formerly  been  of  consequence  as  the  seat  of  a  famous 
blanket  manufacture,  which  made  "  Witney  "  a  household  word 
with  housewives,  especially  in  cold  weather.  Our  drive  next 
brought  us  to  Minster-Lovel,  the  scene  of  the  "  Old  English 
Baron  ;"  and  next  to  a  "  deserted  village,"  which  looked  as  little 
like  Auburn  as  possible,  for  it  had  been  built  by  a  pack  of  infidels, 
to  show  the  world  what  a  village  ought  to  be,  and  so  had  speedily 
become  as  dead  as  Pompeii.  It  was  now  "  for  sale,"  but  no  one 
seemed  disposed  to  buy,  and  I  suspect  it  may  yet  be  had  at  a  bargain. 
England  is  no  soil  for  fools  to  flourish  in  ;  and  it  is  a  pity  that 
when  they  find  it  out,  they  are  so  wont  to  come  to  America, 
where  they  join  the  Mormons,  or  set  up  for  superfine  repub- 
licans, and  vent  their  hatred  of  England  in  our  newspapers, 
which  are  then  quoted  by  the  writers  in  the  London  Times,  as 
proof  of  American  feelings  towards  the  mother  country. 

The  country  we  were  now  traversing  had  once  been  scoured  by 
the  troopers  of  the  fiery  Rupert,  and  my  friend,  whom  I  will  call 

Mr.  V ,  finding  my  enthusiasm  rising  at  the   mention   of  his 

clarion  and  jack-boots,  began  to  play  upon  me  by  suggesting  that 
some  mounds  which  we  saw  in  the  distance  were  the  remains  of 
one  of  his  encampments.  This  was  a  very  fine  idea,  but,  resolved 
to  hunt  up  the  local  traditions  with  respect  to  it,  I  asked  a  passing 
boor  if  he  could  tell  me  anything  about  the  barrows.  Oh,  for  a 
page  of  "the  Antiquary,"  to  give  my  reader  some  conception  of 
the  effect  produced  by  the  reply  !  "  Praetorian  here — Praetorian 
there,"  said  old  Eclie  Ochiltree,  "  I  mind  the  bigging  o't ;"  and 
with  equal  bathos  responded  my  boor — "  Them  there  be  some  old 
brick-yards  !"  "  Alas  !"  cried  I — "  it  is  Monkbarns  and  castra- 
metation,  over  again  ;"  and  a  laugh  arose  from  the  Oxford  pilgrims, 
at  which  the  boor  startled,  and  fled  away,  no  doubt  with  strong 
persuasion  that  Ave  were  a  pair  of  madmen,  just  broke  loose  from 
the  deserted  settlement  aforesaid,  of  which,  I  should  have  men- 
tioned, the  neighbouring  peasantry  seemed  to  entertain  a  very 
wholesome  fear. 

Commend  me  to  Burford,  our  next  halting-place,  as  a  village 
of  most  exemplary  independence  of  this  nineteenth  century. 
Some  old  houses,  which  struck  me  as  I  entered  it,  bore  an  inscrip- 
tion by  which  I  learned  that  a  good  burgess  built  them  for  a 
charitable  use  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  I  should  think  no 
house  had  been  built  in  Burford  since  that  date,  so  entirely  unlike 
a  modern  town  is  its  chief  street,  with  all  its  lanes  and  by-ways. 
Here,  now,  was  England — the  England  we  read  of!     None  of 


150  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

your  Manchesters  and  Liverpools,  but  an  innocent,  sleepy  old  vil- 
lage that  was  of  vast  repute  when  those  snobbish  places  were 
unknown.  Here  met  a  Church  Synod,  A.  D.,  685,  to  settle  the 
question  about  the  British  Easter  usages,  and  here  worthy  Peter 
Heylin  was  born  in  1600.  The  little  river  Windrush  runs  through 
the  place,  and  on  its  banks  stands  the  ancient  Church  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist,  to  which  we  repaired  forthwith.  Here  we  found  an 
unexpected  treat,  in  the  exceeding  richness  of  its  Norman  archi- 
tecture, and  in  the  many  delicate  traces  of  its  former  perfection, 
which  had  escaped  the  ravages  of  time.  The  tower  and  spire, 
the  south  porch  and  the  windows,  afforded  a  most  entertaining 
and  instructive  study.  Some  old  inscriptions  remained,  entreat- 
ing the  passer-by  to  pray  for  the  departed  soul  of  such  and  such 
benefactors.  The  interior  enchanted  me.  Here  was  a  "  Silves- 
ter aisle,"  in  winch,  for  generation  after  generation,  certain 
worthies  of  that  name  have  been  buried  under  costly  monuments, 
most  curious  to  behold.  But  what  pleased  me  most  was  one  of 
those  huge  monuments,  like  an  ancient  state-bed,  with  canopy 
and  posts  complete,  on  which  lay,  side  by  side,  a  worthy  knight 
and  his  dame,  persons  of  a  famous  repute  under  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  the  grand-parents  of  the  stainless  Falkland.  "  Sir  Launcelot 
Tanefield  "  was  the  name  of  the  knight,  and  if  I  mistake  not,  he 
was,  at  one  time,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England,  and  Burford 
was  his  native  place.  From  this  charming  old  Church  I  could 
hardly  tear  myself  away.  I  suspect  few  travellers  have  visited  it, 
and  I  congratulated  myself  on  having  met  with  such  a  friend  as 
V -,  to  draw  me  out  of  the  beaten  track,  and  show  me  some- 
thing of  England,  that  is  England  still. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  passed  an  old  Manor  house,  pic- 
turesquely seated  in  a  valley,  at  which  I  could  have  looked 
contentedly  for  an  hour,  so  entirely  did  it  answer  to  my  ideas  of 
many  a  manorial  residence,  which  had  pleased  my  boyish  fancy, 
in  novels  and  romances.  Next  we  passed  Barrington  Park,  the 
seat  of  Lord  Dynevor,  and  soon  after,  another  beautiful  park,  the 
seat  of  Lord  Sherborne.  And  now,  our  journey  lay  over  one  of 
the  Cotswold  hills,  which  reminded  me  somewhat  of  a  drive  over 
Pokono,  in  Pennsylvania,  so  lonely  and  even  wild  did  it  seem,  in 
comparison  with  the  country  we  had  just  been  traversing.  We 
came  to  North  Leach,  where  again  we  alighted  to  survey  a  Church, 
perched  on  a  rising  ground,  above  the  houses  of  the  village,  which 
are  mostly  very  old,  with  curious  gables,  and  built  along  narrow 
lanes,  in  very  primitive  style.     This  Church  had  suffered  more 


A   PICTCRE.  151 

from  accidental  causes,  than  that  at  Burford,  but  was  scarcely 
less  interesting  to  me.  Its  curious  gurgoyles  particularly  arrested 
my  attention,  and  within,  some  good  brasses,  and  other  monu- 
ments. It  has  a  fine  porch,  and  its  general  architecture  seems  of 
a  period  somewhat  between  the  decorated  and  the  perpendicular. - 
"We  were  now  in  Gloucestershire,  and  I  shall  never  forget  that  it 
w;i<  in   passing   over  a  hill   near   Stow-on-the-Wold,  that   I  first 

heard  the  nightingale.    "  There,"  said  V ,  "  there  is  Philomela ! 

not  mourning,  but  wooing;  'tis  her  love-note" — and  I  listened 
with  a  sense  of  enchantment.  Perhaps  I  was  in  the  mood  to  be 
delighted,  for  certainly  I  had  never  spent  a  day  in  such  charming 
travel  before,  and  1  was  conscious  of  a  pleasure,  which  I  cannot 
describe,  arising  from  the  realization  of  my  dreams,  in  forecasting, 
through  a  Ions  series  of  years,  such  a  journey  through  England. 

In  descending  the  Cotswold  hills,  I  caught,  here  and  there, 
some  enchanting  views ;  little  churches  perched  upon  the  brows 
of  hillocks,  or  half  buried  in  the  vales ;  or  farm-honses  and  cot- 
tages not  less  beautifully  situated;  or  the  seats  of  country  squires 
and  other  gentry,  embosomed  amid  trees,  or  lifting  their  chimnies 
above  a  few  lordly  elms.  But  the  charm  of  all  was  yet  reserved 
for  me;  and  just  after  sunset,  as  we  wound  around  a  broad  hill- 
side, I  came  upon  a  seene,  at  which,  it  seemed  to  me.  I  might  have 
gazed   all  my  life  without  weariness   or   satiety.      ;  Stop — stop ! 

my  dear  Y ,  where  are  you   driving?'   said  I,  beseeching  him 

to  rein-  up.  and  let  me  look  for  a  few  minutes  on  as  perfect  a  pic- 
ture of  English  scenery  as  ever  Gainsborough  portrayed,  all  spread 
before  us.  without  a  blemish ;  its  lights  and  shadows  just  as  an 
artist  would  have  them ;  and  yet  vivid  with  nature,  beyond  all 
that  an  artist  could  create.  The  time,  remember,  was  evening,  in 
one  of  its  sweetest  effects  of  sky  and  atmosphere,  cool  and  calm ; 
the  lighter  landscape  deeply  green ;  the  shadows  brown  and  dying 
into  night ;  the  water  shining  here  like  burnished  steel,  and  there 
lying  in  shade,  as  darkly  liquid  as  a  dark  eye  in  female  beauty. 
The  view  was  a  narrow  dell,  just  below  the  road,  in  which  stood 
an  old  manor  house,  ivied  to  its  chimney  tops,  and  encircled  by  a 
moat.  Smoke  of  the  most  delicate  blue  was  floating  thinly  from 
its  chimnies,  into  the  clear  air ;  and  just  at  hand  was  peeping, 
from  a  dense  growth  of  trees,  the  belfry  of  a  very  tiny  Church, 
which  seemed  to  be  there  only  on  purpose  to  complete  the  picture. 
Cattle  were  grazing  in  the  meads,  and  under  a  vast  and  sombre 
yew  tree,  sat  a  group  of  farm-servants,  shearing  the  largest  sheep 
of  the  flock,  the  wool  flaking  off  upon  the  green  grass,  like  driven 


152  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

snow.  While  we  gazed  on  this  living  picture,  with  mute  plea- 
sure, the  soft  notes  of  a  bird  added  sweet  sounds  to  the  enchant- 
ment of  sight,  and  I  sat,  as  in  a  spell,  without  speaking  a  word. 

My  friend  V- •  himself,  who  had  been  laughing  at  me  all  day, 

for  my  enjoyment  of  what  to  him  were  common  and  unsuggestive 
objects,  fairly  gave  up  at  this  point,  and  owned  it  was  a  sight  to 
make  one  in  love  with  life.  Even  now  I  have  lying  before  me  a 
letter  in  which  he  refers  to  this  view  of  "  the  sheep-shearing,"  and 
concludes  by  the  pathetic  announcement  that  the  horse  to  which 
we  were  indebted  for  that  day's  progress,  has  since  been  sold  to  a 
coach  proprietor,  and  now  runs  leader  from  Evesham  to  Stratford. 
"  Little  thinks  he,"  continues  the  letter,  "  as  the  lash  of  the  cruel 
Jehu  touches  his  flank,  of  the  classic  ground  he  travels;  little 
recks  he  of  Harry  of  Winchester,  Simon  de  Montfort,  or  our 
friend  Rupert — for  Rupert  had  a  desperate  struggle  thereabouts — 
or  yet  of  Queen  Bess,  as  he  enters  Bedford,  in  Warwickshire,  or 
even  of  the  immortal  Will,  as  he  halts  at  Stratford." 

So  winding  down  our  road,  amid  firs  and  oaks,  and  enjoying 
new  beauties  at  every  turn,  we  came  through  Charlton  Kings, 
into  the  broad  and  teeming  vale,  adorned  by  modern  Cheltenham. 
It  is  a  noble  amphitheatre,  to  which  the  bold  outline  of  the  Cots- 
wold  hills  gives  dignity,  and  which  abounds  with  minor  charms  on 

every  side.     I  was  soon  lodged  at   my  friend  V 's,  after   due 

introduction  to  his  family,  including  a  visit  to  the  nursery,  where 
some  lovely  children  were  allowed  to  salute  me  with  their  inno- 
cent kisses,  and  thus  to  make  me  sure  of  a  welcome  to  their 
father's  house. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


Worcester — Malvern — Gloucester. 

My  first  excursion  with   my  friend  V ,  was  to  Worcester 

and  Malvern.  In  Worcester  of  course  the  great  attraction  is  the 
cathedral,  and  thither  we  went  immediately  upon  our  arrival, 
and  found  Service  going  on.  We  lingered  without  the  choir, 
and  listened  to  the  anthem,  as  it  rose  from  the  voices  within ; 
and  then,  as  the  prayers  went  on,  in  the  monotone  of  chaunting, 
varied  by  the  occasional  cadence  of  the  priest,  and  the  sweet  re- 
sponse of  the  singers,  we  had  an  opportunity  of  worship  which  I 
trust  was  not  only  enjoyed,  but  reverently  appropriated  in  devo- 
tion. Service  ended,  the  verger,  with  his  mace,  issued  from  the 
doors  of  the  choir,  preceding  the  singers  in  their  surplices,  and 
the  residentiary  canons — far  too  feeble  a  force,  however,  for  a 
cathedral,  in  which  "  the  spirit  of  a  living  creature  "  should  al- 
ways be  "  within  the  wheels,"  giving  motion  and  reality  to  the 
routine  of  daily  prayers,  and  fasts,  and  festivals.  There  is  no  ex- 
cuse for  the  present  condition  of  the  English  cathedrals.  They 
require  the  most  thorough  reforms  to  make  them  felt  as  blessings. 
At  Worcester  I  began  to  feel  that  such  was  the  case,  and  the 
painful  conviction  increased  upon  me,  throughout  my  subsequent 
tour. 

We  now  surveyed  the  venerable  temple,  and  experienced  the 
usual  annoyance  of  the  verger's  expositions.  Here  was  the  monu- 
ment of  King  John;  and  there  the  chapel  tomb  of  Arthur, 
Prince  of  Wales,  the  first  husband  of  Queen  Katherine  of  Arragon. 
Here,  too,  are  shown  the  statues  of  St.  Oswald,  an  early  bishop  of 
this  see,  and  of  Wolstan,  another  bishop  who  laid  the  foundation 
of  the  existing  cathedral,  in  the  eleventh  century.  The  choir  is 
impressive,  but  the  eastern  window  struck   me  as  too   predomi- 

7*       . 


154  IMPBESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

nantly  green,  and  altogether  as  somewhat  kaleidoscopic.  Among 
the  more  modern  monuments,  a  small  bas-relief,  by  Bacon,  struck 
me  as  very  meritorious.  A  widow  with  her  three  children 
gathered  about  her,  and  bending  to  the  storm  of  sorrow,  was  the 
fitting  memorial  of  a  departed  husband  and  father.  Or  was  it 
that  the  group  reminded  me  of  the  treasures  of  my  own  far-off 
home,  and  of  the  scene  which  an  Atlantic  storm  might  so  easily 
create  around  the  fireside  that  would  be  trimmed  for  my  return ! 
At  any  rate,  it  touched  me,  and  reminded  me  that  I  Avas  in  a 
house  of  prayer,  where  ejaculations  might  be  wafted  from  the 
heart,  and  answered  three  thousand  miles  away.  Other  associa- 
tions made  me  pause  before  the  tomb  of  Bishop  Hough,  that 
brave  old  president  of  Magdalen,  to  whose  resistance  of  the  Pop- 
ish James  I  have  referred  before.  The  sculpture  is  by  Roubilliac, 
but  is  free  from  the  usual  affectations  of  that  artist;  and  the 
scene  in  Magdalen  College  is  represented  on  the  base  of  the 
monument.  We  lingered  about  the  exterior  for  some  time,  and 
were  particularly  struck  with  the  flying  buttresses  of  the  choir, 
as  the  most  pleasing  portion  of  the  venerable  structure.  After  a 
visit  to  one  of  the  prebendal  residences  in  the  cloisters,  we  loitered 
about  the  town  for  an  hour,  and  then  took  the  top  of  the  stage- 
coach for  Malvern. 

Several  coaches  were  starting  at  the  same  time  for  diverse 
points  of  the  compass,  and  here  we  had  before  us  something  of 
the  moribund  system  of  travel  of  the  days  of  George  the  Fourth. 
The  flaming  red  liveries  of  the  whip  and  the  guard,  with  the  notes 
of  the  bugle  as  we  whirled  over  the  Severn,  gave  one  a  sense  of 
the  poetry  of  locomotion  which  suggested  some  foolish  sighs 
over  the  achievements  of  invention,  and  the  age  of  the  rail. 
However,  it  was  something  to  be  thankful  for,  that  there  was  as 
yet  no  tunnel  under  Malvern  hills.  Crack  went  the  whip — and 
away  sprung  the  horses,  and  very  soon  the  tower  of  the  cathedral 
was  all  we  could  see  of  Worcester.  We  passed  the  Teme,  and 
drove  through  Powick  and  Mather.  The  fields  were  fragrant 
with  the  blossoms  of  the  bean ;  the  open  road-side  was  garnished 
with  flowering  furze;  and  the  cottages  stood  forth,  neat  and 
comfortable,  amid  embowering  laburnums,  and  lilacs,  and  guelder- 
roses.  '  Ah,  yes — I  grant  you,  England  is  a  beautiful  country, 
but  you  Englishmen  do'nt  know  how  to  enjoy  it  half  as  much  as 
your  American  cousins;  not  that  we  have  not  glorious  scenery  at 
home,  but  that  we  have  no  such  garden,  as  England  seems  to  be, 
from  one  sea  to  the  other.'     So  I  said  to  my  companion. 


MALVERN.  155 

"We  ascended  the  Malvern  hills,  on  a  brisk  trot,  by  a  good  road 
stretching  along  the  face  of  the  hills,  and  soon  entered  the  smart 
and  showy  town  of  Great  Malvern  itself,  which  overhangs  the 
charming  vale  of  Gloucester,  and  affords  a  view  of  the  winding 
Severn,  and  many  beautiful  villages,  churches,  and  seats.  The 
towers  of  several  abbeys,  with  those  of  the  cathedrals  of  Gloucester 
and  "Worcester,  adorn  the  prospect,  and  the  distant  ridge  of  the 
Cotswolds  completes  the  picture.  The  Abbey  Church  of  Great 
Malvern   proved,  of  itself,  sufficient  to   reward  our  visit  to  the 

place,  but   my  friend  V ,  found  at  one  of  the  hotels,  a  party 

of  his  friends  enjoying  a  brief  sojourn  in  this  delightful  retreat, 
for  the  benefit  of  its  air  and  springs — for  "  Ma'vern,"  as  every- 
body knows,  is  a  fashionable  watering-place.     Good  reason  have 

I  to  remember  the  spot  where  I  first  met   the   amiable  W s, 

to  whose  subsequent  attentions  I  owed  so  much  pleasure  on  my 
northern  tour;  and  I  trust  they  too  may  be  willing  to  remember 
our  holiday  at  Malvern.  I  was  particularly  gratified  with  the 
adventurous  spirit  of  the  ladies,  who  insisted  on  doing  us  the 
honours  of  the  place,  considering  us  as  their  guests.  Under  their 
kindly  guidance  we  climbed  the  hills,  and  visited  the  Holy  Well, 
and  the  well  of  St.  Ann's,  and  finally  reached  the  summit  of  the 
Malverns,  where  we  gained  a  magnificent  sight  into  Herefordshire, 
and  could  see  to  the  best  advantage  the  nearer  beauties  of  the 
vale  of  the  Severn.  We  walked  along  the  ridge,  pausing  to  rest 
awhile,  and  to  enjoy  the  scenery,  near  the  Worcestershire  beacon, 
and  so  passing  down  on  the  Hereford  side,  and  returning  through 
a  gap  called  the  Wych,  we  parted  with  our  fair  guides  at  Malvern 
Wells,  and  taking  a  post-chaise  started  on  a  delightful  drive 
across  the  valley. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon,  and  our  route  took  us  through  a 
great  variety  of  country  scenes.  Now  we  skirted  the  base  of  the 
Malverns;  and  now  reached  the  picturesque  Church  of  Little 
Malvern ;  and  now  descended,  amid  overhanging  trees,  into  the 
valley  of  the  Severn,  partly  darkened  by  the  stretching  shadow 
of  the  hills,  and  partly  glittering  with  reflections  of  the  descend- 
ing sun.  My  friend  V ,  who  seemed  to  have  friends  every- 
where, was  so  well  acquainted  with  the  neighbouring  gentry,  that 
he  was  quite  at  liberty  to  enliven  our  drive,  by  leaving  the  high 
road  and  crossing  the  park  of  this  or  that  beautiful  residence 
which  happened  to  lie  in  our  way.  Thus  we  gained  fine  views 
of  several  elegant  mansions  and  their  surrounding  grounds.  At 
the  lodge  of  one  of  these  parks,  as  we  entered,  I  was  struck  with 


156  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

a  curious  tree,  called  the  peacock  yew,  from  the  showy  pavonazetto 
of  its  foliage :  but  the  oddities  of  nature,  after  all,  are  far  less  at- 
tractive than  her  ordinary  beauties.  At  last  we  re-crossed  the 
Severn,  and  entered  Tewksbury.  It  has  been  justly  remarked 
that  this  place  appears  to  have  stood  still  for  five  hundred  years. 
Its  massive  abbey,  with  its  magnificent  Anglo-Norman  tower, 
has  the  advantage  therefore  of  standing  in  the  company  of  con- 
temporary walls  and  roofs,  instead  of  being  an  insulated  lump  of 
Medioevalism,  in  a  mass  of  nineteenth  century  brick  and  plaster. 
I  was  wholly  unprepared  for  so  splendid  a  specimen  of  cathedral 
architecture  as  this  abbey  proved  to  be ;  and  when  I  entered  the 
sacred  place,  I  was  quite  overwhelmed  with  its  effect.  It  is  of 
great  length,  and  the  aisles  are  separated  from  the  nave  by  a 
series  of  immense  Saxon  pillars,  which  convey  an  idea  of  strength 
and  sombre  dignity  wholly  different  from  the  impressions  pro- 
duced by  the  light  and  springing  shafts  of  the  perpendicular  and 
decorated  Gothic.  Its  great  window  is  a  solitary  example  of 
such  vast  and  solemn  combinations  of  proportion  and  detail; 
its  Norman  arches  being  deeply  recessed  in  the  gigantic  wall, 
and  its  height  commensurately  sublime.  While  we  surveyed  this 
stupendous  interior,  the  rich  shadows  and  faint  illuminations 
produced  by  the  close  of  day,  greatly  heightened  the  impressive- 
ness  of  the  architecture  and  the  awful  associations  of  this  ancient 
sanctuary  and  cemetery.  It  was  indeed  sublime  to  reflect  that 
under  the  shade  of  these  walls  was  waged  the  last  battle  of 
the  House  of  Lancaster,  and  that  the  noble  ashes  of  its  heroes 
were  everywhere  under  foot,  as  we  paced  its  aisles.  We  surveyed 
one  after  another  the  tombs  of  Clarence,  of  Somerset,  of  Wenlock, 
and  De  Clifford,  moralizing  on  the  Providence  which  reduced  the 
Norman  blood  of  England  just  in  the  time  and  manner  best  suited 
to  give  the  Commons  room  to  rise ;  and  which  laid  these  proud 
patricians  in  the  dust,  that  out  of  the  dust  might  spring  the  free- 
dom and  the  power  which  now  invest  the  world  with  Anglo-Saxon 
glory.  God  only  is  wise — God  only  great !  Issuing  from  a 
small  door  in  one  of  the  aisles  of  the  abbey,  Ave  entered  a  green 
and  peaceful  meadow,  to  which  the  deepening  twilight  gave  a 
grave  and  rich  effect,  heightened  not  a  little  by  the  shadows  of 
the  abbey  towers,  and  by  the  croaking  of  rooks  and  daws  among 
the  buttresses  and  pinnacles.  Here  was  the  fatal  field  where  the 
red-rose  was  smothered  forever  in  red  blood.  "  Lance  to  lance, 
and  horse  to  horse " — here  its  fated  champions  struck  the  last 
blow  for  Margaret  and  her  son.     Here  the  young  prince  himself 


THE  AVON.  157 

asserted,  face  to  face  with  usurping  York,  the  rights  -which  his 
fathers  had  not  less  usurped  from  the  fallen  Plantagenet ;  and 
here,  for  his  boldness  and  for  his  fatal  royalty,  he  fell  beneath 
the  rapier,  the  last  blood  of  Lancastrian  majesty  spouting  from 
his  many  wounds.  Can  it  be,  so  green  a  field  was  eyer  so  crim- 
son ?  It  Avas  impossible  to  conjure  up  the  scenes  of  a  period  so 
long  gone  by ;  and  yet  not  less  impossible  to  stand  on  such  a 
field,  without  some  communion  with  the  spirit  of  departed  ages. 

With  a  worthy  clergyman  of  Tewksbury,  we  finally  quenched 
our  enthusiasm  in  a  cup  of  tea,  and  buried  the  swelling  thoughts 
of  Margaret's  wrongs,  under  the  juicy  morsels  of  a  mutton-chop. 
As  we  sat  at  our  repast,  I  observed  that  our  reverend  entertainer 
had  "a  river  at  his  garden's-end."  "Yes,"  was  his  reply — "the 
Avon  !"  I  had  supposed  it  the  Severn,  of  course;  but  when  he 
thus  reminded  us  of  its  noble  confluent,  after  our  historical  -com- 
munion with  Shakspeare  in  the  battle-field,  all  my  enthusiasm 
returned  again,  and,  in  spite  of  tea  and  mutton-chop,  I  felt  a 
thrill  to  find  myself  so  near  the  river  of  the  immortal  Swan  of 
Stratford.  Here,  indeed,  it  finds  its  fitting  union  with  the  larger 
waters,  and  runs  with  Severn  to  the  sea.  But  now,  it  seemed  to 
me  fragrant  and  vocal  with  a  spirit  caught  from  the  banks  of 
Stratford  churchyard,  and  its  murmurs  continually  repeated  the 
lines — 

"  Clarence  is  come  ;  false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence, 
That  stabbed  me  in  the  held,  by  Tewksbury." 

During  my  visit  at  Cheltenham,  we  contrived  to  spend  a  Sun- 
day in  the  country — and  such  a  Sunday  as  should  realize  my 
ideas  of  an  English  Sunday  among  a  rural  population.  Early  in 
the  morning  we  went  to  Bredon,  and  there  surveyed  its  parish 
Church,  just  opened  for  Divine  service,  and  exhibiting  a  neat 
interior,  which,  but  for  my  growing  familiarity  with  so  many 
superior  examples,  I  should  have  considered  very  noteworthy. 
In  the  floor  of  the  nave  is  a  plain  slab  covering  the  grave  of 
"Bishop  Prideaux,  1G50."  This  Church,  too,  shWed  the  hand 
of  the  restorer,  and  had  been  much  improved  and  beautified  in 
the  spirit  of  what  I  suppose  will  be  called  the  Victorian  Res- 
toration. Leaving  this  Church,  we  started  over  the  field  for 
Kemerton.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning — what  I  am  wont  to 
call  a  George-Herbert- Sunday;  and  as  I  went  through  the  fragrant 
meads  and  harvest  lands,  or  turned  into  a  shady  lane,  amid  the 
hawthorn  hedges,  I  felt  those  quiet  influences  stealing  over  me 
which  are  the  sweetest   preparation   for   enjoyment  in  the  house 


158  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

of  God.  By  and  by  we  descried  above  the  foliage  the  tower 
of  Kemerton  Church ;  and  hard  by  was  the  parsonage,  where  that 
estimable  dignitary,  the  venerable   Archdeacon  Thorp,  gave  us  a 

most   cordial  welcome.     Before   service,  my  friend  V called 

me  aside  into  the  churchyard,  and  pointed  to  a  little  grave  beau- 
tifully decorated  with  fresh  flowers.  I  understood  at  once  that 
it  was  the  grave  of  a  beloved  child  he  had  lately  lost,  and  whose 
transient  but  lovely  life  had  shed  a  charm  around  these  scenes 
of  its  sweet  and  holy  habitation,  and  endeared  them  to  the  hearts 
of  all  who  knew  him.  For  a  moment  I  entered  into  the  sorrows 
of  a  bereaved  parent,  and  wept  with  one  that  wept. 

The  service  in  Kemerton  Church  is  performed  in  some  respects 
very  simply,  in  others,  one  might  say,  elaborately,  for  most  of  it 
is  sung.  There  is  no  organ,  and  the  singers  are  plain  farmers 
and  village-lads,  yet  they  have  places  in  the  chancel,  and  wear 
surplices,  and  sing  with  very  agreeable  eifect.  When  Morning 
Service  was  over,  I  proposed  a  quiet  ramble  through  the  fields, 
with  my  friend,  for  my  heart  was  quite  full  of  the  solemnities 
of  which  the  Holy  Communion  formed  a  part.  As  we  were 
about  to  leave,  we  observed  the  bell-ringers  taking  their  stand 
under  the  tower,  which  opened  into  the  Church,  with  great  re- 
verence and  propriety  in  their  behaviour.  The  Archdeacon  in- 
formed us  that  they  were  all  worthy  parishioners,  who  under- 
stood the  nature  of  the  humblest  office  in  the  house  of  God,  and 
who  rung  the  bells  with  a  sense  of  serving  the  temple,  and  sound- 
ing forth  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  When  we  had  gone  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  Church,  we  heard  the  bells  ringing, 
accordingly,  and  sweet  music  did  they  discourse.  They  seemed 
indeed  full  of  Sabbath  blessing ;  full  of  peace  and  good  will  to 

men.      "  This,    dear  V ,"  said  I,    "  This   is   enchanting,  and 

more,  'tis  heavenly !  Shall  I  ever  forget  this  peaceful  Sunday 
noon  in  England?"  As  I  looked  around,  all  seemed,  as  the  Gos- 
pel would  make  the  whole  earth  appear,  if  only  sinful  men  would 
let  it ;  all  blossomed  as  the  rose.  A  church  but  a  few  rods  in 
one  direction — and  another  less  than  a  mile  before  us — and 
many  others  near  us,  all  around !  All  churches  too — not  so 
many  tokens  of  religious  strife  and  schism,  but  each  to  its  own 
little  nest  of  villagers,  the  centre  of  one  faith,  of  one  baptism, 
and  the  worship  of  one  Lord.  Ah — here  is  the  true  glory  of 
England !  Mile  after  mile,  in  some  counties,  seems  to  be  marked 
by  church  after  church;  each  beautiful  in  its  kind,  the  monu- 
ment of  ancestral  piety  among  its  rural  worshippers,  and  the 


159 

tutelary  of  their  rude  forefathers'  graves,  that  cluster  beneath  its 
eaves.  One  wonders  what  a  dissenter  is  made  of,  when  he  be- 
holds these  rural  churches,  and  their  happy  influence  over  a 
rustic  population.  "We  extended  our  walk  to  Overbury  Church, 
an  old  Norman  structure  of  small  dimensions,  beautifully  restored, 
and  in  perfect  repair.  The  congregation  had  just  withdrawn, 
and  the  breath  of  prayer  seemed  lingering  in  the  sanctuary.  My 
ramble  was  completed  before  the  Evening  Service  began,  and 
certainly  never  saw  I  Sunday  so  liveried  before,  to  celebrate  the 
holy  tide.  The  hawthorn  was  everywhere  in  flower;  butter-cops, 
daisies,  lilacs,  cowslips,  and  every  variety  of  contemporary  blos- 
som, were  to  be  seen  in  all  the  fields  and  cottage-gardens ;  and 
the  very  sheep  and  cattle,  resting  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
seemed  to  know  it  was  the  holy  day.  Where  else,  save  in  Eng- 
land, is  holy  tide  ever  so  entirely  what  holy  tide  should  be  ? 

The  Evening  Prayer  was  divided,  as  in  all  the  English  cathe- 
drals, so  that  the  sermon  followed  the  second  lesson.  Then 
came  the  Canticle,  and  the  rest  of  the  prayers.  This  arrangement 
follows  the  original  idea  of  Catechising  at  the  Evening  Prayer,  and 
has  many  advantages.  I  was  privileged  to  be  the  preacher,  and 
I  spake  with  a  sincere  appreciation  of  the  duty,  as  a  privilege 
indeed.  It  appeared  strange  to  me,  when  service  was  over,  to 
reflect  that  Kemerton  Church  is  many  hundred  years  old,  and  yet 
that,  in  all  probability,  never  had  any  one  stood  in  its  pulpit  be- 
fore, who  was  not  a  subject  of  the  English  crown. 

Among  the  valuable  acquaintances  which  I  formed  at  Chel- 
tenham, I  reckon  myself  fortunate  in  that  of  the  Rev.  Alexander 
Watson,  now  of  Marvchurch,  Devon,  so  well  known  by  his 
many  publications  in  defence  of  Church  doctrine,  and  in  aid  of 
practical  religion.  It  was  in  his  company  that  I  visited  Glou- 
cester, and  added  to  my  stock  of  travelling  experiences  another 
day  of  memorable  enjoyment.  After  a  pleasant  breakfast  party, 
at  his  hospitable  table,  we  started  in  a  private  carriage,  for  a 
somewhat  circuitous  drive,  to  that  "  godly  city ;"  passing  Leck- 
hampton,  under  lee  of  the  tallest  peaks  of  the  Cotswolds,  and  so 
by  Birdlip  Wood,  and  Cooper's  Hill.  Ear  away,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  valley,  a  prominent  headland  was  pointed  out  to  me, 
as  May's  Hill.  It  is  a  not  less  conspicuous  landmark  from  the 
Severn,  and  once  served  to  save  from  shipwreck  a  mariner, 
named  May,  just  returning  from  the  sea;  in  consequence  of 
which,  he  planted  its  summit  with  a  clump  of  trees,  and  made 
provision  for  keeping  them  there  perpetually.    At  a  little  distance 


160  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

I  descried  a  liamlet,  and  a  Church,  which  my  friend  pointed  out 
to  me  as  Chozen,  at  the  same  time  informing  me  that  it  was  spelt 
Churchdoicn.  This  is  but  one  of  many  amusing  specimens  of  the 
wide  variance  which  often  exists,  between  the  spelling  and  pronounc- 
ing of  English  proper  names.  At  Shurdington  we  paused  to  visit 
its  pretty  Church,  surrounded  by  a  shady  field,  and  found  it  un- 
dergoing entire  restoration  at  the  expense  of  the  curate.  Both 
the  restoration,  and  the  munificence  of  its  promoter,  were  the 
rather  interesting,  as  being  no  uncommon  things.  Such  proofs 
of  life  and  godliness  are  everywhere  encountered,  at  the  present 
day,  in  England.  I  found  myself  more  and  more  delighted,  as 
we  drove  on,  with  the  scenery,  and  often  with  the  road  itself,  so 
beautifully  hedged  and  shaded,  and  affording  so  many  points  of 
interest  to  an  observing  eye.  Here  was  the  tower  of  Badgworth 
Church,  and  here  was  Brockworth.  Churches  everywhere — and 
everywhere,  upon  the  face  of  field  and  farm,  the  tokens  of  that 
industry  and  thrift,  of  that  order  and  decency,  with  which  the 
Church  alone  can  ennoble  the  aspect  of  civilization.  The  same 
charm  which  I  had  observed  in  the  features  of  society,  and  which 
I  had  traced  to  harmony  in  religion,  appeared  to  me,  here  and 
elsewhere,  transferred  in  a  great  degree  to  the  very  soil,  to  its 
culture,  and  to  its  embellishment.  Nature  itself  seemed  to  have 
borrowed  a  grace,  and  a  glory,  from  the  holy  Faith,  of  which 
such  monuments  were  visible  at  every  turn,  in  spires  and  towers 
peering  above  the  green  trees,  and  gleaming  amid  the  wide-spread 
bounties  of  God,  whose  adorable  name  they  seemed  to  display  as 
the  giver  of  all.  As  we  slowly  ascended  the  slope  of  Cooper's 
Hill,  walking  behind  our  carriage,  and  surveying  the  scene  to 
right  and  left,  with  reflections  such  as  these, we  heard  a  note  from 
the  deep  foliage  of  Birdlip  Wood,  which  arrested  us,  and  brought 
to  my  mind  many  scraps  of  poetry,  such  as  Logan's,  or  Words- 
worth's— 

shall  I  call  thee  bird, 

Or  but  a  wandering  voice  1 

It  was  the  cuckoo !  I  had  never  heard  it  before,  except  in 
wooden  imitation  from  the  perch  of  a  German  clock.  I  shall  not 
soon  forget  its  effects,  upon  the  still  beauty  of  the  hour  and  the 
scene,  as  I  heard  it  for  the  first  time,  in  nature's  own  sweet 
modulations  and  heart-touching  pathos. 

Hucklecot  new  Church  we  only  sighted,   but  at  Upton  St. 
Leonard's  we  made  a  halt,  and  visited  the  Church,  the  parsonage, 


GLOUCESTER   CATHEDRAL.  161 

and  the  school.  The  Church  was  a  gem  of  its  kind,  with  interest- 
ing monuments  and  architectural  objects,  and  had  been  freshly 
restored.  The  schools  were  lately  built  by  a  munificent  lady  of 
rank,  and  the  parsonage  was  apparently  new ;  the  whole  furnish- 
ing another  instance  of  what  is  going  on,  almost  universal  ly. 
Passing  Robinwood-hill  on  the  left,  as  we  continued  our  drive, 
we  soon  entered  Gloucester,  of  which  the  glorious  cathedral 
tower  had  long  been  the  conspicuous  object  in  our  view. 

Here  we  visited  the  Church  of  St.  Mary-de-  Crypt,  (lately  re- 
stored) where  the  admirers  of  Whitfield  would  chiefly  think  of 
him,  and  where,  perhaps,  he  ought  to  have  been  more  thought  of 
by  the  Church,  and  so  saved  from  the  extravagances  of  his  subse- 
quent career.  We  went  also  to  see  St.  Michael's  and  St.  Mary- 
de-Lode,  (fresh  restorations  again)  and  finally  visited  the  scene 
of  Bishop  Hooper's  fiery  martyrdom.  The  death  of  Hooper  digni- 
fies the  otherwise  inglorious  memory  of  a  prelate  who  did  not 
a  little  to  spoil  his  own  work  as  a  reformer,  by  tampering  with 
Geneva.  And  it  is  curious  how  much  of  puritanism  he  seems  to 
have  bequeathed  to  his  see;  Glos'ter  having  been  the  proverbial 
haunt  of  the  "  godlie  "  in  Cromwell's  time,  and  having  bred  the 
zealous  evangelist,  to  whom  I  have  already  alluded  as  originally 
illuminating  with  his  enthusiasm,  the  cold  interior  of  St.  Alary- 
de-Crypt.  Strange,  that  after  beginning  here  as  a  deacon  of  the 
Church,  he  should  now  lie  buried  under  a  puritan  pulpit  in  New 
England,  having  completely  revolutionized  the  Calvinism  of  our 
own  country,  and  entailed  upon  it  the  Convulsionwn  of  which  it 
is  now  expiring.  Had  the  zeal  of  Whitfield  been  according  to  his 
knowledge,  and  had  the  dormant  Hanoverian  age,  which  produced 
him,  by  the  law  of  reaction,  only  known  how  to  use  him,  he  might 
have  left  behind  him  some  less  equivocal  fruits  of  missionary  en- 
terprise. 

Before  speaking  of  the  cathedral,  I  must  allude  to  our  visit  to 
Higlmam,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Severn.  Here  we  found  a 
Church,  lately  erected  entire,  at  a  cost  of  £30,000,  by  a  single 
individual — nave,  chancel,  tower,  and  spire  complete,  and  all 
affording  a  model  of  ecclesiastical  art,  worthy  of  standing  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  some  of  its  noblest  originals.  To  see  a  Vic- 
torian Church,  and  one  thus  erected  by  private  munificence,  com- 
paring so  favourably  with  some  of  the  most  admired  specimens  of 
the  middle  ages,  not  only  in  general  construction,  but  in  the  most 
elaborate  details,  was  indeed  refreshing  to  the  eye  and  to  the 
heart.       The    chancel   and   altar   were    especially   noteworthy, 


162  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

adorned  as  they  were  with  the  most  delicate  sculpture,  in  Caen 
stone,  and  instinct  with  the  life  and  beauty  of  a  healthful  sym- 
bolism. Into  the  chancel  opened  a  small  sepulchral  chapel, 
which  exceedingly  interested  my  feelings,  and  warmed  my  admira- 
tion of  the  whole.  Two  memorial  windows  were  dedicated,  each 
to  the  remembrance  of  a  departed  child,  and  between  them  stood, 
in  a  niche,  the  marble  bust  of  their  departed  mother.  Blessed 
religion  of  Jesus,  which  makes  the  dead  in  Christ  so  dear,  and 
which  so  beautifies  their  memory:  which  so  sanctifies  the  ties  of 
earth,  and  so  triumphs  over  death,  in  its  power  to  render  them 
eternal !  PI  ere  was  a  family  nest,  indeed,  hung  upon  the  altar  of 
the  Lord  of  Hosts !  My  eyes  glistened  as  I  read,  beneath  the  lovely 
effigy  of  the  Christian  wife  and  mother,  an  inscription  to  "  Anna 
Maria  Isabella  G P ;  in  fulfilment  of  whose  pious  pur- 
pose this  Church  was  erected  to  the  glory  of  God,  by  her  hus- 
band." Then  followed  the  texts — including  an  allusion  to  the 
children,  as  well  as  their  mother — "  And  they  shall  be  mine  in 
that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels:" — "The  Lord  grant  unto 
them  that  they  may  find  mercy  of  the  Lord  in  that  day."  I  can 
scarcely  remember  anything  of  the  kind  which  ever  more  power- 
fully touched  the  springs  of  Christian  sympathy  within  me ;  those 
sacred  springs  of  the  heart,  which  can  never  issue  in  their  fullest 
flow,  till  they  have  been  fed  by  the  hallowed  love  of  the  husband 
and  the  father. 

Returning  to  the  town,  I  devoted  nearly  the  whole  of  the  re- 
mainder of  the  afternoon  to  the  cathedral ;  accompanied  most  of 
the  time,  by  the  friend  to  whom  I  had  owed  the  pleasures  of  the 
day,  and  to  whom  I  at  last  bade  a  reluctant  farewell.  I  had  been 
greatly  benefited,  not  only  by  his  intelligent  conversation  on  in- 
different topics,  but  by  his  earnestness  in  those  particularly,  which 
Christian  priests  should  discuss  most  freely  in  each  other's  com- 
pany.    He  left  me  to  the  kind   attention   of  a  worthy  dignitary 

of  the  cathedral,  the  Rev.  Sir  John  S ,  in  the   enjoyment  of 

whose  polite  hospitalities  I  spent  the  evening  of  this  charming 
day. 

The  exterior  of  the  cathedral,  as  seen  from  every  point  of 
vantage,  in  neighbouring  gardens,  or  from  the  solemn  seclusion  of 
the  surrounding  precincts,  was  not  less  striking,  in  its  way,  than 
that  of  any  similar  structure  I  had  yet  beheld ;  but  the  internal 
survey  was  more  impressive,  by  far,  than  that  of  any  other,  ex- 
cept Westminster  Abbey.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  of  its  class  of 
buildings,  and  in  its  different  portions,  presents   an    epitome   of 


WARBURTOX.  163 

pointed  art,  in  its  several  stages  of  progress  through  a  period  of 
five  hundred  years.  Here  is  the  Anglo-Norman  nave,  with 
massive  columns,  like  those  of  Tewksbury ;  then  comes  the  choir, 
with  its  rich  and  delicate  elaborations;  and  then  the  Lady-Chapel, 
which  is  a  little  paradise  of  architecture.  The  solid  crypts  be- 
neath, dating  from  the  tenth  century,  present  a  singular  instance 
of  groining,  in  their  square  and  solid  ribs,  entirely  unadorned; 
while  the  cloisters,  in  the  style  of  the  fifteenth  century,  seem  to 
have  exhausted  the  skill  of  the  architect,  in  the  exceeding  rich- 
ness of  their  tracery,  and  pendant  vaulting.  The  very  defects 
of  the  building  seem  to  have  contributed  to  its  graces,  for  when 
I  had  admired  the  aerial  effect  of  a  slender  arch,  springing 
athwart  the  transepts  and  attaching  itself  to  the  roof,  as  if  its 
solid  stone  were  a  mere  hanging  festoon,  I  was  told  that  this  was, 
in  fact,  a  blemish,  and  had  been  introduced  into  the  original  plan, 
only  to  strengthen  the  walls.  I  went  into  the  triforia,  and  tried 
the  whispering-gallery,  but  had  no  time  to  amuse  myself  with 
such  small  experiments,  amid  so  many  incentives  to  a  higher  em- 
ployment of  my  opportunities.  I  am  sorry  that  the  marvellous 
beauty  of  the  Lady-Chapel  still  demands  the  hand  of  a  restorer. 
The  "godly"  Cromwellians  have  left  the  traces  of  their  hammers 
on  all  its  carved  work,  and  it  is  sadly  despoiled.  Would  that 
the  same  skill  and  taste  which  reared  the  Church  at  Highnam 
might  be  permitted  to  make  this  holy  place  worthy  of  an  English 
cathedral !  That  the  English  people  still  suffer  these  mother- 
churches  of  the  nation  to  remain  as  too  many  of  them  are,  is  one 
of  their  greatest  national  disgraces.  "When  they  are  restored  as 
they  might  be,  and  managed  as  they  should  be,  then,  and  not  till 
then,  must  they  command  the  unmingled  admiration  and  delight 
of  every  intelligent  visitor. 

After  a  thorough  inspection  of  the  cathedral,  in  the  broad 
light  of  day,  I  was  kindly  invited  by  Sir  John  to  visit  it  again, 
as  the  day  was  about  to  close.  We  entered,  by  his  private  key. 
and  were  alone  in  the  vast  and  awful  interior.  Going  into 
the  nave,  he  said  to  me,  as  I  paused  to  observe  the  solemn 
perspective — "  Whose  bones,  do  you  suppose,  are  now  beneath 
your  feet?"  I  stepped  aside,  as  he  added,  "You  are  standing  on 
the  grave  of  Bishop  Warburton."  So  much  wit  and  genius  in 
the  dust !  Yet  in  what  nobler  sepulchre  could  earth  to  earth  be 
delivered,  to  await  the  resurrection  1  Hard  by,  are  the  monu- 
ments of  two  of  the  world's  benefactors;  that  of  Jenner,  who 
poured  water  upon  the  flame  of  the  noisome  pestilence,  and  that 


164:  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

of  Eaikes,  who  first  "gathered  the  children"  into  Sunday  Schools. 
There  is  another  modern  monument,  deserving  of  mention,  as 
one  of  that  purely  Anglican  type,  which  tends  to  divinify  domes- 
tic love,  and  the  holy  relations  of  the  wife  and  mother.  A  fe- 
male figure,  with  a  babe,  appear  in  the  radiant  marble,  invited 
by  angels  into  Paradise,  from  the  waves  of  the  sea.  It  is  from 
the  pure  chisel  of  Flaxman,  and  commemorates  one  who  died  in 
the  perils  of  childbirth,  while  encompassed  by  the  perils  of  the 
great  deep. 

Less  pleasing,  yet  even  more  impressive,  was  the  quaint  effigy, 
in  old  carved  oak,  of  Robert,  Duke  of  ISormandy,  surnamed 
Curthose.  You  touch  it  and  it  moves,  and  you  involuntarily 
start.  It  is,  of  course,  very  light,  and  lies  upon  the  tomb  so  loose- 
ly that  it  is  easily  disturbed;  and  then,  it  seems  as  if  the  old 
Norman  were  about  to  rise  and  confront  you,  as  an  audacious 
intruder  upon  his  repose.  But  how  shall  I  describe  the  effect  of 
the  marble  effigy  of  poor  King  Edward  the  Second,  as  I  saw  it, 
in  the  solemn  twilight,  and  in  the  unbroken  silence  of  the  deserted 
cathedral?  There  was  that  outstretched  figure,  and  that  sad 
outline  of  a  face  composed  in  death,  and  hands  clasped  in  resigna- 
tion ;  but  its  dread  appearance  was  as  if  imploring  God,  against 
the  cruel  murderers  who  had  done  him  such  awful  violence.  I 
thought  of  Gray's  sketchy  but  descriptive  lyric,  and  muttered  to 
myself: — 

"  Those  shrieks  of  death  through  Berkeley's  roofs  that  ring; 
Shrieks  of  an  agonizing  king." 

The  neighbouring  peasant  woke  at  the  outcry  of  the  tortured 
sufferer,  and  crossed  himself;  for  he  suspected  what  the  devil 
was  doing  in  the  castle.  Here  now  lies  the  victim  of  that  horrid 
regicide,  but  there  is  something  in  the  sculpture  of  his  visage, 
that  reminds  the  visitor,  that  "  God  shall  bring  to  light  the  hidden 
things  of  darkness."  This  powerful  impression  lingered  with  me, 
as  I  paced  the  cloisters,  and  revived,  when  at  a  late  hour  of  the 
night  I  was  awakened  by  the  chimes  of  the  cathedral  clock 
charming  the  darkness  with  a  solemn  tune,  and  lifting  the 
thoughts  of  the  listener  to  communion  with  his  God. 


CHAPTER    XX 


The  Court  of  St.  James. 

Who  knows  not  by  heart  the  face  of  the  Koval  Palace  of 
St.  James  ?  That  such  a  house  should  have  been  a  Palace  in  the 
days  of  Wolsey,  seems  strange  enough  to  one  -who  has  seen  at 
Oxford  what  even  a  college  was,  in  "Wolsey' s  conception :  but 
that  it  should  still  be  a  Palace,  when  Pall  Mall  and  St.  James' 
street  are  full  of  club-houses,  that  would  scarcely  take  any  part 
of  it  for  a  kitchen,  with  the  condition  of  setting  it  on  their  own 
ground — this  seems  stranger  still.  Yet  a  Palace  may  it  long 
continue ;  for  not  until  the  government  of  England  shall  be  that 
of  some  revolutionary  pan'enu,  will  it  cease  to  be  a  speaking 
symbol  of  the  genuine  dignity  of  the  British  Crown !  The 
Queen  of  England  can  afford  to  hold  her  Court  in  an  old,  worn- 
out  mansion,  and  to  let  the  opulence  of  her  subjects  erect  the 
most  striking  contrast  at  its  side.  Build  as  they  may — St.  James 
is  not  cast  into  the  shade :  it  is  historical  and  royal.  There  are 
few  illustrations  to  be  found  more  a  propos  to  the  superiority  of 
a  mental  over  a  physical  grandeur. 

In  returning  to  London  from  my  Glo'stcrshire  excursion,  one 
of  my  purposes  was  to  be  presented  at  Court ;  a  gratification 
which  I  had  been  advised  to  allow  myself,  and  which  the  Ameri- 
can Minister  had  politely  proffered  me.  An  experienced  courtier 
supplied  me  with  the  necessary  hints  as  to  dress,  and  the  etiquette 
of  the  Court ;  and  accordingly,  on  a  levee  day,  I  was  duly  pre- 
sented, as  preparatory  to  going  to  Court,  on  the  more  splendid 
occasion  of  a  drawing-room.  The  presentation  of  gentlemen 
always  takes  place  at  a  levee,  and  no  one  of  the  male  sex  can 
attend  a  drawing-room  who  has  not  been  previously  presented. 
Ladies  do  not  attend  levees  at  all,  and  consequently  a  levee  is  a 


166  IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

very  dull  affair,  when  compared  with  the  brilliant  spectacle 
which  they  make  of  a  drawing-room,  not  less  by  their  beauty, 
than  by  the  glitter  of  their  diamonds,  and  the  flaunting  of  their 
trains. 

As  a  clergyman,  I  was  freed  from  any  great  burden  of  expense 
in  the  matter  of  costume,  canonicals  being  the  proper  dress  for 
one  of  the  priestly  function,  and  my  ordinary  suit  of  robes  being 
in  very  good  condition.  A  pair  of  enormous  shoe-buckles  was 
almost  the  only  additional  item  to  be  thought  of;  and  an  Oxford 

cap  Avas  pronounced  by  my  kind  adviser,  Sir  John  S ,  quite 

as  proper  as  the  absurd  little  apology  for  a  three-cornered  hat, 
(tucked  under  the  arm,)  which  is  considered  the  more  exquisite 
finish  to  the  clerical  exterior,  on  such  occasions.  My  next  con- 
cern was  to  furnish  myself  with  a  Brougham,  (or  chariotee,)  and 
with  a  driver  wearing  a  sort  of  livery ;  hackney-coaches  not  be- 
ing sufferable  within  the  precincts  of  the  Palace.  A  couple  of 
cards,  of  unusual  magnitude,  one  of  which  bore  the  name  of  my 
presenter,  with  my  own,  was  the  last  requisite ;  and  thus  muni- 
mentecl,  I  had  only  to  fall  into  the  line  of  aristocratic  equipages, 
sweeping  down  St.  James' -street,  and  to  await  my  turn  for  alight- 
ing at  the  doors  of  the  Palace. 

How  different  the  scene  in  Hogarth's  day,  when  they  went  to 
Court  in  sedan-chairs,  and  when  the  "  Pake,  arrested  for  debt," 
(as  pourtrayed  in  his  dramatic  colours,)  was  the  very  ideal  of  a 
courtier.  Yet  there  stands  the  old  Palace,  precisely  as  it  figures 
in  that  graphic  picture,  and  here  are  the  successors  of  the  charac- 
ters who  fill  up  its  back-ground,  if  not  those  of  the  hero  himself! 
Such  were  my  reflections  as  I  found  myself  moving,  very  leisure- 
ly, in  the  procession  of  wheels,  along  the  splendid  street,  amid 
crowds  of  gaping  spectators,  kept  at  respectful  distance  by  the 
heels  of  the  horses  of  the  mounted  guards,  and  by  the  vigorous 
exertions  of  the  police.  My  further  reflections  were  not  of  a 
very  self-sufficient  sort ;  for  who  could  be  very  much  elated  at 
finding  himself  cutting  so  little  of  a  figure,  and,  in  fact,  mak- 
ing an  absolute  blemish,  in  such  a  pageant  ?  Yet,  I  had  no  occa- 
sion to  be  ashamed,  as  I  felt  that  my  hired  brougham  was  as 
much  the  thing  for  my  republican  self-respect,  as  the  gilded 
coaches  and  gorgeous  liveries  before  me  and  behind  me  were  for 
titled  lords  and  ladies.  In  fact,  if  I  could  not  be  vain,  I  was  not 
without  a  little  Johnsonian  pride,  in  the  entire  consistency  and 
reality  of  my  turn-out.  Hired  court-dresses,  and  swords,  and 
buckles,  have  been  not  unheard-of  things  for  an  appearance  at 


COURT   BEAUTIES.  167 

Court.     I  was  at  least  habited  in  no  borrowed  plumes,  and  was 
going  in  the  same  vestments  which   I   had  often  worn  in  my  pul- 
pit, to   be   presented   by  the  representative   of  my  own  Govern- 
ment,   as    a   plain  American    parish-priest.      As   for   my  hired 
brougham,  it  was  countenanced  by  jo  many  of  its  own  kind,  that 
its   humble   appearance   occasioned   no  surprise  even  among  the 
staring  crowd,  it  being  quite  usual  for  professional  gentlemen  to 
use   such   an   equipage.     But   the   carriages   of  the   nobility,    in 
general,  are  truly  superb :  that  is  to  say — if  they  arc  not  ridicu- 
lous.    They  look,  for  all  the  world,  (with  their  gilding,  emblazon- 
ings  and  trappings,  their  powdered  coachmen,  and  footmen  hold- 
ing on  behind,  three  in  a  row,  with  staves  and  cocked  hats,)  like 
the  carriage  of  Cinderella  in  the  nursery -book.     And  indeed,  on 
a  drawing-room  day,  the  fair  creatures  within,  in  their  ostrich- 
plumes,    and    lace,    and    diamonds,    as  revealed   to  vulgar   eyes 
through    the   glass-windows,  often    seem   to   realize   the  fabulous 
beauty  of  Cinderella  herself  with  their  dazzling  complexions  and 
delicate   airs.     Not   alone   the  vulgar,  however,  but  man}'  of  the 
personal  friends  of  the  fair  parties  are  viewing  them,  all  the  time, 
from  the  neighbouring  balconies  and  shop-front-.      The  levee  at- 
tracts less  of  a  crowd,  and  yet  there  was  crowd  enough,  and  very 
stupid   was   my  approach    to    Pall-Mail.      There — you    wait    till 
called  in   your   turn,  and   meanwhile   have    time  to  look  at  the 
mounted  trumpeters,  pursuivants,  and  guards,  in  liveries  of  scar- 
let and  gold,  drawn  up  before  the  gates.    At  last,  setting  forward, 
you   enter   the   court-yard,  with    as   much   of  a  flourish  as  your 
whip  can  make   for  you,  and   alight   at   the  door  of  the  Palace, 
making  your  way,  first  along  a   corridor,  and   then   slowly  up  a 
grand  stair-case,  to  the  suite  of  apartments  opened  for  the  occa- 
sion.    As  you  enter  these  apartments,  you  throw  your  card  into 
a  basket,  and  pass  on  amid  files  of  yeomen  of  the  guard,  wearing 
the  Tudor  livery,  and  holding  their  halberds,  and  looking  like  old 
statues  of  wood   or  stone,  or  rather   like   the  wax  figures   in  a 
museum.      When  the  time  comes  for  you  to  enter  the  royal  pre- 
sence, you  are  met   at  the  door  of  the  throne-room  by  a  gentle- 
man in  waiting,  to  whom  you  deliver  your  second  card,  that  you 
may  be  properly  announced.     This   card   is   handed   to  another 
official,  and  you  are  ushered  through  a  file   of  ladies  of  honour 
towards  her  Majesty,  who  stands  beneath  a  canopy,  with  Prince 
Albert  at  her  side,  the  centre  of  the  brilliant  circle,  and  (as  I  am 
glad  to  say)  making  a  truly  royal  appearance.     Here  your  name 
is  called  out,  and  that  of  the  party  who  presents  you,  and  then — 


168  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

an  American  simply  advances  and  bows  to  the  Queen,  repeats  the 
salaam  to  her  princely  consort,  and  so  retires  backwards,  not 
turning  his  heel  upon  the  royal  presence.  A  British  subject  goes 
through  the  more  formidable  ceremony  of  falling  on  one  knee, 
and  kissing  the  royal  hand.  Now  it  so  happened  that  her 
Majesty — owing  no  doubt  to  my  attire,  which  was  the  same  as 
that  of  her  own  clerical  subjects — evidently  mistook  me  for  one ; 
and  my  gallantry  was  in  consequence  sorely  put  to  the  test, — for, 
advancing  with  great  dignity,  the  Queen  Avas  just  proffering  her 
hand,  and  I  was  beginning  to  balance  between  the  republicanism 
of  my  knee,  and  the  courtesy  of  my  heart,  when  the  anxious  official 
promptly  repeated  the  form — "  presented  by  the  American  Minis- 
ter." Of  course  her  Majesty  took  the  hint,  and  most  gracefully  with- 
drew, with  a  courteous  recognition  and  a  pleasant  smile,  while  I 
finished  my  democratic  homage  with  as  much  self-possession  as 
was  in  my  power,  repeated  my  obeisance  to  Prince  Albert,  and 
bowed  myself  backward  through  the  gorgeously  apparelled  circle 
of  diplomats,  making  my  especial  respects  to  our  own  Minister, 
and  so  retiring  into  the  adjoining  apartment. 

On  this  occasion  the  Queen's  appearance  impressed  me,  in  all  re- 
spects, more  favorably  than  I  had  expected  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
Prince  Albert  struck  me  as  less  princely,  and  less  intelligent,  than 
I  had  supposed  him  to  appear.  A  lady  would  here  interpose 
with  the  question  as  to  her  Majesty's  dress,  and  I  must  allow  that, 
from  my  own  observation,  I  could  not  speak  with  certainty  on 
that  important  subject,  but  the  Times  next  morning  asserted  it  to 
have  been — "  a  train  of  white  watered  silk,  chenee  with  gold,  and 
green  and  silver,  trimmed  with  tulle  and  white  satin  ribands,  and 
ornamented  with  diamonds ;  and  a  petticoat  of  white  satin  and 
tulle,  with  satin  ribands  to  correspond;  and  a  head-dress  of 
emeralds  and  diamonds."  The  Duchess  of  Sutherland  and  Lady 
Jocelyn  were  conspicuous  among  the  ladies  in  attendance,  and 
Prince  Albert  was  attended  by  Lord  George  Lenox,  with  his 
groom  and  his  equerry.  It  would  have  been  a  very  magnificent 
spectacle,  had  not  the  small  and  stifled  appearance  of  the  throne- 
room  given  a  cramped  look  to  the  royal  party,  and  detracted  from 
the  majesty  which  always  requires  "ample  room  and  verge"  for 
its  full  effect  on  the  imagination. 

The  drawing-room  was  held  in  honour  of  the  Queen's  birthday, 
about  a  week  later.  I  could  now  go  freely,  without  the  ceremony 
of  a  presentation,  merely  depositing  my  card  in  the  basket,  from 
which,  I  suppose,  the  Times  reports  of  attendants  at  the  Palace  are 


THE   LADIES. 


169 


made  up.  In  approaching  St.  James,  everything  was  as  before, 
save  that  the  crowd  was  greater,  and  the  carriages  conveying 
ladies  of  rank  more  superb.  On  alighting,  and  entering  the  cor- 
ridor, I  was  enchanted  by  the  display  of  splendour  and  beauty 
which  filled  it,  and  in  which  there  was  everything  but  order  to 
make  it  all  that  one  could  imagine  of  a  courtly  pageant.  Bril- 
liant indeed ;  but  such  a  jam  !  The  crowd  was  a  perfumed  and 
dazzling  one ;  but  not  less  a  crowd  than  one  in  the  streets.  Here 
were  peers  and  peeresses  of  every  rank,  and  the  daughters  of 
peers,  and  new  brides,  and  many  a  young  beauty  coming  for  the 
first  time,  and  trembling  with  excitement,  yet  bewildered  with 
delight.  There  is  no  denying  the  striking  beauty  of  many  of 
these  high-born  damsels  ;  their  complexions  were  lily-and-rose, 
and  health  was  as  generally  characteristic  of  their  appearance  as 
beauty.  I  observed  the  trepidation  of  some  of  them,  as  their 
finery  was  subjected  to  the  pressure  of  the  patrician  throng,  and 
as  they  gathered  their  trains  over  the  ivory  arm,  evidently  think- 
ing anxiously  of  the  critical  moment  when  they  must  allow  it  to 
flaunt  gracefully,  and  catch  it  up  not  less  so,  in  the  presence  of 
their  Sovereign.  No  doubt  all  had  been  practised  for  weeks 
beforehand,  till  each  was  an  adept,  in  the  eyes  of  waiting-maids 
and  mammas.  Mingled  with  these  gay  creatures  were  grave 
judges  in  their  wigs,  and  fierce-looking  officers  in  their  uniforms, 
and  wild-looking  Highland  chieftains,  bare-legged,  but  plaided 
and  plumed,  and  making  a  showy  figure  in  their  clan-tartans. 
One  of  the  yeomen-of-the-guard  remarked,  in  my  hearing,  as  I 
passed,  that  this  was  the  greatest  attendance  at  Court  he  had 
ever  known.  The  Crystal  Palace  had  filled  the  town,  and  there 
were  many  foreigners.  I  saw  some  Persian  and  other  Oriental 
costumes  in  the  throng ;  and,  on  the  whole,  the  poorest  figures 
were  those  in  the  ordinary  gentleman's  court  suit,  with  the 
cocked-hat,  and  hair-powder  of  the  last  century.  This  style  of 
dress  seemed  to  be  avoided  as  far  as  possible,  military  uniforms 
predominating.  In  mounting  the  great  stair-case,  if  our  progress 
was  slow,  there  was  everything  to  relieve  its  tediousness.  The 
ascending  rows  of  glittering  uniforms  and  fine  female  figures  were 

a  study  in  themselves.     I  observed  the  lovely  Lady ,  whom 

I  had  met  a  few  hours  before,  at  a  breakfast,  and  was  amused 
with  the  entire  change  of  her  appearance  which  those  few  hours 
had  made.  Lord  Lyttleton,  who  had  been  at  the  same  breakfast 
party,  now  appeared  in  a  military  suit.  Quite  a  number  of  the 
clergy  were  interspersed  among  the  fair  and    brave ;    and   as  a 


170  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

polite  young  officer  offered  me  precedence,  and  cautioned  me  to 
beware  of  his  spurs,  he  whispered — "  Cedant  arma  togce  is  about 
all  the  Latin  I  retain."  Gaining  a  landing  on  the  stair-case,  we 
were  next  amused  by  observing  the  great  personages  descending 
by  a  corresponding  stair-case,  from  the  royal  presence.  A  ser- 
vant called  for  the  carriage  of  each  party,  as  they  successively 
appeared,  and  so  one  always  knew  who  was  coming.  At  last 
came  a  great  man  whom  all  knew  without  any  help,  as  he  tottered 
down,  dressed  in  his  Field-Marshal's  uniform,  of  which  the  gay 
decorations  strangely  contrasted  with  his  white  head  and  bowed 
shoulders.  As  I  watched  the  old  hero  descending,  step  by  step, 
I  could  not  but  think  of  the  lower  descent  he  must  soon  make 
into  the  dust,  and  oh !  what  a  moral  was  furnished,  at  that  mo- 
ment, by  the  glittering  honours  he  wore  upon  his  breast.  Dukes, 
earls,  and  cabinet  ministers,  and  several  ambassadors,  with  wives 
and  daughters,  came  following  each  other  in  splendid  succession, 
till  at  last  I  gained  the  ante-chamber,  and  had  something  else  to 
look  at.  Here  I  could  move  more  freely,  and  renew  my  impres- 
sions of  the  Palace.  Several  persons  whom  I  had  met  elsewhere 
were  so  polite  as  to  join  me,  and  to  enter  into  conversation,  which 
very  pleasantly  beguiled  the  time.  The  exits  and  entrances  were 
in  themselves  enough  to  amuse  and  fill  up  one's  time.  Almost 
every  variety  of  official  decoration  and  costume,  known  to  heralds 
and  antiquarians,  seemed  to  be  worn  by  somebody,  and  amongst 
the  comers  and  goers  were  some  distinguished  individuals  in  arts 
and  arms.  In  this  room  were  one  or  two  of  Lely's  pictures,  and 
among  them,  if  I  remember  rightly,  that  of  Catharine  of  Bra- 
ganza.  Queen  Anne  also  looked  on  us,  from  the  walls,  and  her 
Majesty's  odious  old  great-great-grandfather,  George  the  Second. 
As  I  fell  into  the  line  which  moved  toward  the  throne-room,  I 
came  to  a  window  looking  over  the  park  and  private  garden  of 
the  Palace.  Oh !  what  tales  of  Caroline,  and  Hanoverian,  gos- 
sip and  scandal,  the  sight  recalled.  There  was  her  Majesty's 
state  carriage,  awaiting  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremonies,  to  con- 
vey her  back  to  Buckingham  Palace.  The  squab  of  a  driver 
was  sleeping  on  his  box — a  mere  mortal  in  spite  of  his  livery,  his 
hair-powder,  and  the  nosegay  in  his  bosom.  In  my  turn,  I  pass- 
ed before  her  Majesty,  much  as  before.  I  hardly  saw,  in  full,  the 
ceremony  of  a  female  presentation,  although  there  were  several 
just  before  and  after  me,  for  the  crowd  was  intolerable,  and  my 
escape  from  the  presence  of  royalty  into  the  freer  apartments  be- 
yond, was  truly  refreshing.     I  passed  into  an  armory,  or  room 


CHARLES   THE    MARTYR. 


171 


ornamented  with  such  old  "weapons  and  defences  as  one  sees  at 
the  Tower.  Finally,  as  before,  I  left  the  Palace  through  a  long 
corridor,  ornamented  with  portraits  of  the  Kings  of  England, 
down  to  Charles  the  First.  This  portrait  rem'inded  me  of  the 
last  night  on  earth  of  that  sovereign,  which  he  passed  beneath 
this  roof:  and  of  the  last  sacrament  which  he  received,  in  the 
chapel  of  St.  James.  This  is  the  most  sacred  association  with 
the  Old  Palace,  and  it  is  the  only  one  that  is  enough  sacred,  to 
sink  the  ill  memories  of  its  Georgian  traditions.  The  English 
underestimate  Charles  the  First,  and  do  not  seem  to  reflect  that 
many  of  those  elements  of  their  Constitution,  on  which  they  are 
most  wont  to  value  themselves,  have  been  bequeathed  to  them  by 
the  spirit  in  which  he  maintained  the  royalty,  and  suffered  for  the 
Church.  If  the  brutal  Cromwell  is  remembered  with  commenda- 
tion, because  of  some  liberties  which  were  the  secondary  results 
of  his  usurpation,  why  should  not  the  failings  of  Charles  be  for- 
gotten, in  gratitude  for  the  great  conservative  principles  which  he 
taught  the  English  people,  by  the  signal  ability  with  which  he 
baulked  his  adversaries  in  debate,  and  by  his  truly  sublime  be- 
haviour in  the  last  stages  of  his  reign?  Say  what  they  will, 
thought  I,  as  I  looked  at  his  portrait — had  Charles  the  First  been 
a  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  I  should  not,  to-day,  have  seen  a  descend- 
ant of  Alfred  on  the  Throne  of  Great  Britain. 


CHAPTER    XXI 


Harrow —  Coventry —  Warwickshire. 

I  went  into  the  country  on  Ascension  Day  to  keep  the  feast, 
at  an  interesting  place  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Harrow.  As  I 
was  rushing  at  the  last  minute  to  gain  a  seat  in  the  railway  train, 
I  saw  a  hand  beckoning  me  from  one  of  the  carriages,  and  so 
took  my  seat  beside  the  Bishop  of  Oxford.  He  was  going  to 
spend  the  day  at  the  same  place,  a  fact  of  which  I  had  not  the 
least  idea  beforehand,  but  which,  of  course,  greatly  heightened  my 
anticipations  of  pleasure,  on  making  the  discovery.     Arrived,  the 

Bishop  was  received  by  the  Rev.  Mr. ,  and  I  was  kindly 

invited  to  accompany  him  to  breakfast,  after  a  brief  survey  of 
the  attractions  of  the  place.  First,  we  went  with  our  reverend 
host  to  see  a  sort  of  training  school,  in  which  he  was  giving  some 
young  men  of  limited  means  all  the  substantial  parts  of  a  Uni- 
versity education.  We  went  into  their  chapel,  and  joined  in  the 
devotions  with  which  they  began  their  day.  We  were  then  con- 
ducted through  the  establishment  connected  with  which  was  a 
printing  press,  worked  by  the  pupils,  and  a  chemical  laboratory,  in 
which  they  were  producing  stained  glass  for  the  chapel.  In  the 
garden  I  saw  a  novelty  in  the  horticultural  art,  which  struck  me 
as  not  unworthy  of  imitation.  A  small  piece  of  ground  had  been 
ingeniously  shaped  into  a  miniature  Switzerland.  Here,  for 
example,  was  the  Kighi,  with  a  corresponding  depression  for  the 
Lake  of  the  Four  Cantons.  A  bucket  of  water  poured  into  such  a 
depression,  makes  the  little  scene  into  an  artificial  reality,  serving 
to  convey  a  geographical  idea  much  more  forcibly  than  any  map 
could  possibly  do.  From  this  college  we  went  to  an  "Agricul- 
tural School,"  where  some  plain  farmer's  boys,  in  their  working 
attire,  were  gathered  to  prayers  before  engaging  in  the  labour  of 


THE   ROYAL   OAK.  173 

the  day.  A  certain  amount  of  education  is  furnished  to  these 
hid.-,  in  return  for  their  toil,  and  they  pay  some  fees  beside;  the 
plan  proposing  to  elevate  this  class  of  the  peasantry,  especially  in 
morals  and  religious  knowledge.  Thence,  we  went  to  the  parish- 
schools  which  were  also  opened  by  prayer  ;  and  then  the  children 
were  catechised,  in  the  presence  of  the  Bishop.  After  this  we 
adjourned  to  breakfast,  and  then  went  to  the  Church  ;  a  very  plain, 
but  substantial  and  architectural  one,  lately  substituted  for  its 
dilapidated  predecessor.  The  Bishop  preached,  entirely  extem- 
poraneously, having  been  pressed  into  the  service  against  his 
intentions.  As  he  eloquently  exhorted  us  to  follow  our  ascended 
Lord,  I  could  not  but  think  how  entirely  different  from  the  ordi- 
nary American  notion  of  an  English  Bishop,  in  labors  and  in 
spirit,  wa>  this  estimable  prelate.  The  Holy  Communion  fol- 
lowed, and  there  was  a  large  number  of  devout  partakers,  repre- 
senting all  classes  of  society.  I  was  glad  to  see,  for  example, 
some  plain  farmers,  in  their  frocks,  and  two  of  the  railway-guards, 
in  their  liveries. 

AVhile  walking  through  the  lanes,  with  the  Bishop  and  this 
laborious  pastor,  a  little  boy  ran  up  to  us  with  oak-leaves,  and  a 
branch  containing  oak-apples.  It  was  the  29th  of  May  ;  and  the 
Bishop  playfully  asked  the  lad  why  he  carried  them.  "To 
remember  King  Charles/'  said  the  little  fellow — as  he  further 
enforced  the  sale  of  these  memorials  of  the  Restoration. 

During  the  residue  of  the  day,  I  shared  the  labours  of  the 
pastor,  as  he  went  about  the  parish,  visiting  here  a  sick  person, 
and  there  a  poor  one;  and,  towards  evening,  returning  to  the 
grounds  of  the  training  school,  I  joined  in  a  game  of  cricket, 
which  the  young  men  were  playing  in  high  glee.  Chasing  the 
ball  as  it  bounded  over  the  field,  or  hid  itself  in  the  hedge  ; 
scratching  my  hands  with  nettles,  and  joining  in  the  shouts  of 
frolic,  with  these  happy  youths;  and  finally  sitting  at  my  leisure 
to  watch  the  beautiful  evening  sky,  against  which  stood  out  the 
graceful  spire  and  foliage  of  Harrow-on-the-Hill,  while  the  neigh- 
bouring bells  of  Stanmore  pealed  a  sunset  song,  I  could  not  \r  ' 
murmur  to  myself,  with  Gray — 

M  I  feel  the  gales  that  from  ye  blow, 
A  momentary  bliss  bestow, 

As,  waving  fresh  their  gladsome  wing, 
My  weary  soul  they  seem  to  soothe, 
And,  redolent  of  joy  and  youth, 

To  breathe  a  second  spring." 


174  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

In  rambling  about,  we  had  a  good  view  of  the  former  residence 
of  Queen  Adelaide,  in  which  she  had  lately  died.  She  was  much 
beloved  and  respected  for  her  unaffected  piety,  and  her  manifold 
good  works. 

In  the  twilight  we  went  to  church  again.  The  service  was 
sung  to  a  very  pleasing  chant,  in  which  all  joined  with  heart, 
and  then  the  pastor  entered  the  pulpit,  and  preached,  extempora- 
neously, on  the  text,  "It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  «?ra?/."  The 
sermon  Avas  an  allegory,  of  exceeding  beauty,  perfectly  sustained 
throughout,  and  that,  to  all  appearance,  without  effort.  I  shall 
never  forget  it,  nor  the  powerful  impression  it  produced  at  the 
time.  I  have,  since,  quoted  it  entire,  in  my  own  pulpit,  (with 
full  credit  to  the  source  from  which  it  was  derived,)  and  was 
happy  to  observe  the  effect  it  was  capable  of  producing,  even  at 
second  hand.  I  left  the  scene  of  this  pleasing  day's  experiences, 
with  a  sweet  elevation  of  feeling,  inspired  by  the  solemnities  in 
which  I  had  engaged,  and  by  the  sermons  which  I  had  been  so 
fortunate  as  to  hear.  Oh  !  lovely  Church  of  England,  how  little 
they  know  thee  who  revile  thee !  how  unworthy  of  their  baptism 
are  they  who  have  cast  themselves  from  thy  motherly  bosom ! 

My  next  excursion  was  into  A\rarwickshire.  I  went  first  to 
Coventry,  a  city  of  which  one  of  my  humble  ancestry  was  Mayor, 
more  than  two  centuries  ago,  and  for  which  I  entertained  a  sort 
of  hereditary  respect.  It  retains  much  of  the  aspect  it  must  have 
borne  during  that  worthy's  incumbency ;  for  a  more  mediaeval- 
looking  town  I  saw  not  in  England.  Still  unmodernized  are  its 
ancient  streets  and  alleys.  The  houses  jut  out,  story  above  story, 
their  gables  fronting  the  way,  and  so  close  together,  in  the  upper 
parts,  that  neighbours  may  light  their  pipes  with  each  other  across 
the  street,  as  they  lean  out  of  their  windows.  The  famous  three 
spires  of  Coventry  belong  to  as  many  different  churches,  but  seem 
to  equalize  the  place  in  cathedral  glories  with  Lichfield,  its  sister 
see.  The  spire  of  St.  Michael's,  which  is  chief  among  them,  is, 
indeed,  singularly  beautiful :  and  the  triplet  is  well  harmonized, 
and  gives  the  town  a  majestic  appearance  as  one  approaches  it. 
A  town  of  many  spires,  in  America,  is  generally  a  town  of  many 
wrangling  creeds;  and  the  major  part  of  the  steeples  are  but  vul- 
gar rivals,  realizing  the  droll  idea  of  Carlyle's  eel-pot,  in  which 
each  individual  eel  is  trying  to  get  his  head  higher  than  his  neigh- 
bour's. The  fact,  however,  is  less  droll  than  melancholy,  when  one 
thinks  of  the  sickening  results,  upon  a  community,  of  so  many 
religions,  all  claiming  to  be  reputable  types  of  Christ's  dear  Gos- 


PEEPING  TOM.  175 

pel,  although  so  widely  differing  among  themselves  that  some 
must  necessarily  be  its  pestilent  antagonists.  Dissocial  habits ; 
cold  incivilities  ;  open  wars  :  disgraceful  rivalries  ;  bickering  ani- 
mosities ;  and  a  degraded  moral  sentiment — these  are  the  things 
signified  by  your  poly-steepled  towns  in  our  own  land,  and  God 
onlv  knows  the  irreligion  and  the  contempt  for  truth,  which  are 
festering  within  them,  as  the  result  of  these  acrid  humours;  but  as 
yet,  it  is  not  generally  so  in  England.  The  three  spires  of  Coven- 
try all  point  faithfully  to  the  throne  of  the  Triune  God,  and  are 
symbols  of  one  Lord,  one  faith,  and  one  baptism.  Oh.  that  all 
who  dwell  under  their  shadow  knew  the  blessings  of  their  minis- 
trations, and  received  them  in  spirit  and  in  truth! 

The  melodious  bells  of  St.  Michael's  rung,  as  I  lingered  about 
its  venerable  walls ;  but  the  interior  was  undergoing  a  costly 
restoration,  and  was  so  obstructed  with  scaffolding,  that  I  could 
catch  but  little  of  the  effect  of  its  solemn  length  of  nave  and 
chancel,  and  of  the  intersecting  arches  of  its  aisles.  I  afterwards 
visited  Trinity;  and  also  the  ancient  St.  .Mary's  Hall,  the  scene 
of  the  civic  pomps  of  Coventry,  and  filled  with  antiquarian  interest 
in  itself  and  in  its  contents.  It  was  not  difficult  to  conjure  up 
the  ancient  shows  of  the  adjoining  church-yard  when  Holy  Week 
was  celebrated  by  dramatic  mysteries,  Bat  what  interested  me 
more  than  all  the  rest,  was  the  grotesque  head  of  a  mediaeval 
clown,  projecting  from  an  old  house,  with  a  most  striking  expres- 
sion of  vulgarly  impertinent  curiosity.  The  reader  of  Tennyson's 
exquisite  chefdtcnwre,  will,  of  course,  recognise  "Peeping  Tom"  in 
this  description.  Fabulous  may  be  that  beautiful  legend  of  the 
Lady  Godiva,  but  the  men  of  Coventry  believe  it  still ;  and  still, 
on  every  Friday  in  the  week  of  Holy  Trinity,  its  annual  fair  is 
opened  with  a  commemorative  procession,  in  which  a  fair  bov, 
dressed  in  well-knit  hosiery,  but  apparently  naked,  rides  through 
the  ancient  streets,  with  long  and  golden  hair  flowing  from  head 
to  foot,  and  covering  his  body,  as  the  representative  of  the  sweet 
bride  of  Earl  Leofric,  who  made  the  burghers  of  Coventry  toll- 
free,  and  >;  gained  herself  an  everlasting  name."  They  were 
making  great  preparations  for  this  pageant  when  I  was  there,  but 
on  the  whole  I  preferred  not  "  to  march  through  Coventry  with 
them." 

From  Coventry  to  Kenilworth.  of  course.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  when  I  started  the  rooks  in  those  old  ruins,  and  sat 
down  to  watch  their  flight  about  its  ivied  towers.  Here  was, 
indeed,  a  plnce  for  thought,  and  for   sentimentalism.     How  the 


176  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

romance  of  Scott,  that  once  so  bewitched  me,  (as  I  read  it, 
stretched  in  boyish  luxury  upon  the  floor  of  the  verandah  of  an 
American  villa,  on  the  dear  banks  of  the  Hudson,)  now  rose  about 
me  in  a  strange  dream  of  reality;  and  how  tormenting  the 
endeavour  to  separate  the  true  history  from  the  charming  fable ! 
Here  the  finely  wrought  Gothic  masonry,  and  delicate  mouldings, 
and  deeply  recessed  windows  of  the  great  banqueting-room,  stand 
without  a  roof;  and  the  ivy  that  climbs  the  solid  walls,  and  twists 
among  the  shattered  mullions  and  transoms,  is  rooted  inside  of 
the  once  hospitable  hall,  and  beneath  the  very  point  in  space, 
where  once  the  haughty  Queen  Elizabeth  sat  in  state,  on  a  splen- 
did dais,  with  Burleigh,  and  Leicester,  and  Raleigh  around  her, 
while  these  cold,  damp  walls  lifted  about  them  their  magnificent 
tapestries,  and  gorgeous  blazonries  of  heraldic  honour.  In  that 
bay  window  she  once  reclined,  to  look  over  the  park,  and  to  think 
thoughts  too  deep  for  utterance.  The  rich  architectural  work  of 
these  chambers  betrays  their  former  splendid  uses;  and  one 
grudges,  to  the  great  serpent-like  convolutions  of  the  ivy-vines, 
the  sole  proprietorship  of  their  surviving  graces.  Yet  there  they 
hang  their  melancholy  leaves  ;  and  the  beautiful  desolation  is  pos- 
sibly rich  enough  in  its  moral  effect  on  the  heart  of  the  visitor,  to 
make  one  contented  on  the  whole,  that  the  pile  was  once  so  great 
in  design,  and  so  exquisite  in  detail,  and  that  the  ruin  is  now  so 
complete.     Poor  Amy  Robsart  I 

Up  and  down  I  went,  thinking  only  of  her  wrongs.  Now  the 
worn  steps  wound  up  to  a  turret,  and  now  descended  to  a  secret 
postern.  Here  was  the  orchard,  and  there  the  lake,  and  there 
the  plaisance:  now  you  look  out  of  a  prison-like  window,  and 
now  you  stand  in  the  deep  recess  of  a  lordly  oriel.  Going  into 
the  ancient  grounds,  I  scattered  a  hundred  sheep,  and  away  they 
went,  bounding  over  grass  as  green  and  velvety,  as  they  were 
white  and  fleecy.  These  are  the  successors  of  those  red  deer,  fal- 
low deer,  and  roes,  which  once  stored  the  chase.  The  "  swifts  " 
darted  from  bush  to  bush,  and  the  thrushes  fluttered  in  the  haw- 
thorn ;  and  then  all  was"  as  still  as  if  the  past  hung  over  the 
place  like  a  spell,  and  as  if  it  were  haunted  with  its  own  history. 
Of  all  this  noble  castle,  there  remains  only  one  outer  part,  which 
can  shelter  a  human  inhabitant.  The  barbican,  beneath  which 
Elizabeth  must  have  made  that  superb  entrance,  is  still  a  dwell- 
ing; but  its  occupant  is  a  plain  farmer,  who  would,  no  doubt, 
prefer  to  be  more  snugly  housed.  It  seemed  strange  to  find  such 
a  picturesque  abode  devoted  to  so  homely  a  use.     How  glad  I 


guy's  cliff.  177 

fihould  be  to  hire  it,  myself,  for  a  summer  lodge,  provided  I  might 
have  the  range  of  the  surrounding  domains,  without  the  annoy- 
ance of  everybody's  intrusion,  and  provided  I  had  nothing  better 
to  do  than  to  read  romances  and  history ! 

Here  this  farmer  lives,  in  a  room  of  panelled  oaken  wainscot, 
enclosed  by  walls  that  might  defy  artillery.  The  chimney-piece 
is  a  massive  bit  of  antiquity,  partly  alabaster  curiously  wrought, 
and  partly  wood  of  rich  and  costly  carving.  The  ragged-staff  of 
Dudley  is  conspicuous,  in  the  decorations ;  it  betrays  the  relics  of 
its  former  gilding ;  the  speaking  initials  B.  L.  tell  the  story  of 
its  origin,  and  the  motto  Droit  et  Loyal  shows  itself,  as  if  in 
mockery  of  historical  justice,  amid  the  arms  and  cognizances  of 
the  once  proud  possessor  of  the  princely  castle  of  Kenilworth. 

The  long  twilight  enabled  me  to  visit  Leamington  Priors,  and 
to  get  a  very  pleasing  impression  of  its  trim  and  fair  abodes,  and 
showy  modern  streets.  Then  away,  by  night,  to  Warwick,  where 
I  slept  at  the  "  Warwick  Arms,"  after  such  a  comfortable  sup- 
per, as  one  finds  nowhere,  at  the  close  of  a  traveller's  day,  except 
at  an  English  Inn. 

It  proved  a  most  beautiful  morning,  next  day,  and  I  was  up 
very  early,  resolved,  before  tasting  breakfast,  to  taste  all  the 
sweets  of  the  hour  of  prime,  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  rural 
districts  of  England.  I  walked  out  some  two  or  three  miles,  on 
the  Kenilworth  road,  to  Guy's  Cliff,  and  to  the  scene,  beyond  it, 
of  Piers  Gaveson's  murder.  The  beauty  of  the  day  and  of  the 
scenery,  the  song  of  birds,  and  the  blossoms  of  the  hawthorn 
along  the  road,  were  singularly  in  keeping  with  the  imagery  by 
which  the  poet  has  pictured  the  early  history  of  a  reign,  strik- 
ingly coincident  with  that  in  which  Gaveson's  fortune  was  made 
and  ruined : — 

"  Fair  laughs  the  morn,  and  soft  the  zephyr  blows, 
While  proudly  riding  o'er  the  azure  realm, 
In  gallant  trim  the  gilded  vessel  goes, 

Youth  on  the  prow,  and  pleasure  at  the  helm  !" 

At  length,  leaping  a  slight  fence,  I  made  my  way  through  a 
clovered  field,  and  then  through  a  pretty  grove,  to  what  was 
once  Blacklow  hill.  Here  is  still  a  sort  of  cave,  which  I  readily 
found  among  the  hazels ;  and  on  the  eminence  above  it,  rises  a 
strongly  built  and  severe  looking  monument,  surmounted  by  a 
cross  of  solid  proportions,  the  whole  singularly  adapted  to  the 
place  and  purpose.  It  is  a  work  of  late  years,  and  the  happy 
thought  of  the  proprietor  of  Guy's  Cliff.     There  was  something 


17S  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

stirring,  too,  in  reading,  in  the  loneliness  of  that  morning  hour, 
the  following  inscription  on  the  face  of  the  monument,  viz : — u  In 
the  hollow  of  this  rock  was  beheaded,  July  1,  1312,  by  barons  lawless 
as  himself.  Piers  Gaveson,  Earl  of  Cornewall,  the  minion  of  a  hateful 
king,  and  in  life  and  death  a  memorable  instance  of  misrule.''''  What 
a  picture  of  the  ferocious  past  was  conjured  up  by  that  expres- 
sion— "  beheaded  by  barons  as  lawless  as  himself."  The  sweet 
Avon  was  flowing  through  the  meads  below ;  there  gleamed  the 
feudal  towers  of  Warwick,  in  the  glowing  sunrise;  and  just  so  it 
was,  that  July  morning,  five  hundred  years  ago,  when  this  rock 
rang  with  oaths  and  curses,  the  barkings  of  that  tierce  Guy  de 
Beauchamp,  whom  Gaveson  had  called  i;  the  black  hound  of 
Arden."  That  insult  was  here  avenged  in  blood ;  but  it  only 
served  to  fire  the  thirst  of  the  regicide.  Those  features  upturned  to 
heaven,  in  the  choir  of  Gloucester,  and  those  imploring  hands  of 
poor  King  Edward,  came  back,  in  thought,  once  more. 

Pictures  have  made  my  readers  familiar  with  the  scenery  of 
Guy's  Cliff.  There  it  stands,  on  the  Avon — in  unpretending 
beauty,  ivied  up  to  its  chimnies,  here  an  oriel,  and  there  a  turret, 
the  very  ideal  of  a  fair  lady's  bower,  and  one  of  the  goodliest  of 
"  the  merry  homes  of  England."  There  is  a  mill  over  against  it, 
where  I  stood  and  admired  its  quiet  romance,  in  the  glory  of  that 
summer  morning,  as  the  gilding  of  the  sunlight  lay  on  the  cold 
gray  of  its  towers.  At  the  mill,  the  farmer-lads  were  washing 
sheep,  and  as  they  plunged  in  the  fleecy  ewes,  and  soused  them 
over  and  over  again,  in  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  Avon,  I 
thought  an  artist  would  ask  no  fairer  study,  for  his  pencil,  than 
the  scene  before  me.  I  confess  I  could  not  safely  look  on  it  with- 
out repeating  the  Tenth  Commandment,  and  I  quite  deposed  my 
project  of  renting  the  Gate-house  of  Kenilworth,  in  thinking  how 
much  better  I  should  like  Guy's  Cliff  for  my  habitation. 

My  walk  into  Warwick,  again,  was  full  of  pleasure.  I  heard 
the  clock  strike  in  the  tower  of  St.  Mary's,  which  I  saw  over 
a  forest  of  trees,  gaily  lighted  by  the  sun ;  and  then  came  a  tune 
from  its  chime.  I  paused  before  old  houses,  and  stared  at 
the  curious  ancient  gateway,  under  which  we  had  passed  in 
the  night.  After  breakfast  I  visited  the  Church,  and  espe- 
cially the  Beauchamp  Chapel,  where  the  ancient  lords  of  Warwick 
lie  on  their  proud  tombs,  in  sculptured  mail,  beside  their  dainty 
dames,  in  more  delicate  attire.  This  chapel  is,  of  its  kind,  the 
finest  in  the  kingdom ;  the  superb  tomb  of  Charles  the  Bold  and 
Mary  of  Burgundy,  when  I  saw  it  at  Bruges,  reminded  me  of  it, 


WARWICK   CASTLE.  179 

and  seemed  less  imperial.  I  cannot  now  recall  it  in  detail,  as  I 
wish  I  could,  for  the  sake  of  accurate  criticism  ;  but  at  the  time 
I  was  greatly  struck  with  the  state  and  splendour  of  such  beauty 
— -for  ashes!  Fulke  Greville's  monument  is  also  memorable,  if 
only  for  the  striking  tribute  it  pays  to  private  friendship  ;  for  the 
inscription  furnished  by  himself  ekes  out  the  fact  of  his  being 
"  Councillor  to  King  James,"  by  that  of  his  claim  to  write  himself 
— "The  friend  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney." 

I  went  over  Warwick  Castle,  of  course,  and  surveyed  the 
grounds  from  the  porter's  lodge,  where  are  shown  the  armour  and 
the  porridge-pot  of  great  Guy,  and  fair  Phaelice's  slippers,  to  the 
garden-house,  wherein  is  kept  the  gigantic  vase  from  Tivoli. 
What  eyes  for  natural  beauty  had  those  builders  of  old  times! 
The  Avon  seems  just  here  to  be  made  for  Warwick  Castle,  and 
Warwick  Castle  seems  made  for  it.  On  the  whole,  I  have  seen 
no  residence  in  Europe,  save  Windsor  Castle,  that  seemed  to  me 
more  princely  than  this.  'Tis  not  the  creation  of  vulgar  opulence, 
or  of  an  Aladdin-like  fortune — but  it  seems  the  growth  of  ages, 
and  the  natural  concentration  of  architectural  beauty  and  strength. 
From  its  windows  such  a  view  of  the  landscape — in  the  landscape 
such  views  of  it !  And  then  its  relics  and  antiquities  ;  its  pictures 
and  its  portraits  ;  its  bed-rooms,  and  halls,  and  drawing-rooms  ; 
its  boudoirs,  and  its  bowers;  its  chapel,  and  its  whole  together — 
who  can  but  wonder  at  them,  and  who  would  want  them? 
Mine  is  not  so  vast  an  ambition — such  "  an  unbounded  stomach." 
On  the  whole  I  am  so  reasonable  a  man,  that  to  gratify  my 
utmost  longings  for  a  home — this  side  "  the  house  not  made  with 
hands" — I  would  take  Guy's  Cliff,  and  leave  Warwick  Castle 
untroubled  by  any  writ  of  ejectment  from  even  a  roving  wish,  or 
wild,  ungoverned  thought. 


CHAPTER    XXII 


Stra  tford — Shakspeare. 

Only  nine  miles  to  Stratford-upon-Avon  !  With  what  a  flush 
of  delighted  expectation  I  climbed  the  coach,  and  left  the  War- 
wick Arms,  in  the  hope  of  beholding  with  my  eyes,  in  less  than 
two  short  hours,  the  home  of  Shakspeare,  and  that  world-famous 
church  to  which  he  bequeathed  his  bones !  And  yet  there  was 
something  like  a  misgiving  at  the  heart.  My  imagination  had 
been  familiar,  for  years,  with  a  certain  ideal  of  Stratford,  that 
had  grown  into  my  whole  structure  of  thought  concerning 
Shakspeare  and  his  times.  It  had  been  constructed  from  here  a 
print,  and  there  a  traveller's  tale,  and  had  taken  life  and  beauty 
from  detached  anecdotes,  and  little  inklings  of  historic  light,  that 
had  come  sweetly  to  me  from  my  boyhood,  in  some  inexplicable 
manner.  In  part  the  product  of  enthusiastic  study,  when  college 
oil,  that  should  have  been  burned  in  honour  of  Euclid,  and  Napier, 
and  Newton,  was  stealthily  sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of  the  great 
master  of  the  human  heart,  I  had  possessed  for  years,  a  Stratford 
of  my  own ;  a  pet  village  of  my  soul,  such  as  Shakspeare  should 
have  lived  in :  and  now — in  a  few  hours,  all  this  was  to  be  de- 
posed forever ;  dull  realities  were  to  eclipse  the  brilliant  picture 
of  the  fancy,  and  thenceforth  I  must  know  only  the  Stratford 
of  fact.  Would  the  realization  pay  me  for  the  downfall  of 
the  vision  ?  Alas  !  what  is  life  but  a  continual  balance  between 
loss  and  gain ;  what  pleasure  do  we  acquire,  without  the  sacrifice 
of  something  almost  as  sweet  ?  How  long  the  boy  looks  at  his 
bright  penny  before  he  gives  it  for  the  toothsome  sugar-plum ; 
and  how  often  the  bright  penny  comes  back  to  him,  as  the  sub- 
stantial wealth,  of  which  the  moment's  gratification  has  deprived 
him. 

As  the  coach  began  to  draw  near  Stratford,  I  found  myself 


RED   HORSE   INN.  181 

greatly  excited ;  and  every  object  began  to  assume  a  sort  of  con- 
scious connection  with  immortal  genius.  The  very  road, — but 
much  more  the  trees, — and  even  more,  those  features  of  the  land- 
scape which  might  be  supposed  unchanged  by  the  lapse  of  centu- 
ries, seemed  instinct  with  their  past  communion  with  a  great 
creative  mind.  His  spell  was  on  them.  He  had  once  been 
familiar  with  these  scenes.  He  had  gathered  many  an  image, 
many  a  thought,  and,  I  doubt  not,  many  a  refreshing  hope,  from 
intercourse  with  their  spring  and  summer  beauties ;  and  they  had 
been  not  less  instructive  to  him,  perhaps,  in  the  season  of  the 
sere-leaf,  or  in  that  of  the  wintry  wind.  Yonder  was  Charle- 
cote — beyond  the  Avon :  its  park  still  stretching  thro'  the  vale, 
and  hiding  the  old  historic  hall.  But  the  thought  of  that  juve- 
nile deer-stalking,  gave  speaking  life  to  even  the  distant  scene. 
There  is  some  sensitive  principle  in  our  nature,  to  which  such 
associations  so  powerfully  appeal,  that  nothing  is  more  real,  for  a 
time,  than  the  communion  we  hold  with  departed  greatness, 
through  the  medium  of  objects  with  which  it  was  once  conversant. 
This  reality  I  never  felt  so  strongly  as  now.  At  last  we  came  in 
sight  of  that  "  star-ypointing  pyramid" — the  spire  of  Stratford 
The  gentle  tumult  of  feelings  with  which  it  ruffled  my  inmost 
nature,  for  a  moment,  and  the  calm  enjoyment  that  succeeded, 
were  enough  to  pay  me  for  crossing  the  Atlantic. 

I  was  duly  set  down  at  the  Red  Horse  Inn,  and  ushered  into 
the  trim  little  parlour,  and  even  into  the  elbow-chair,  of  which  I 
had  read,  aforetime,  in  the  pages  of  Geoffrey  Crayon.  Mine 
host  readily  recognizes  an  American,  and  never  fails  to  produce, 
on  such  an  occasion,  the  "sceptre"  of  the  said  Geoffrey,  where- 
with he  once  poked  the  coals,  in  the  smoking  grate  of  said  par- 
lour, and,  for  a  tranquil  moment,  was  "  monarch  of  all  he  sur- 
veyed." Indeed,  if  Shakspeare  reigns  in  Stratford,  it  must  be 
allowed  that  the  lied  Horse  is,  nevertheless,  the  principality  of 
Crayon,  and  that  it  is  rapidly  rising  into  a  formidable  rivalship 
of  New  Place,  and  the  Guildhall,  on  the  strength  of  Crayon's 
reputation,  to  say  nothing  of  the  landlord's  ale.  In  short,  no 
visitor  to  Stratford  has  ever  left  there  such  a  lasting  impression 
of  his  footsteps,  as  our  own  delightful  Irving :  and  it  was  pleas- 
ant, indeed,  thus,  at  the  very  threshold  of  my  visit,  to  find,  even 
in  the  broad  glare  of  Shakspeare's  glory,  the  star  of  our  country- 
man revolving  steadily  in  its  own  peculiar  orbit,  and  shining  as 
no  mean  satellite  of  that  great  central  sun  of  Anglo-Saxon 
literature. 


182  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

I  should  be  a  bold  man,  indeed,  to  attempt  to  add  anything  to 
Irving' s  description  of  Stratford-upon-Avon.  I  have  only  the 
adventures  of  my  day  to  tell  of,  and  they  were  few  and  simple. 
I  followed  in  the  beaten  track  to  the  old  tumble-down  cottage, 
which  is  called  the  birth-place  of  Shakspeare,  and  which  was 
doubtless  the  scene  of  his  infancy.  I  recognized  at  once,  the 
original  of  many  a  well-thumbed  print,  and  of  many  a  descrip- 
tive page.  Timber  from  the  forest  of  Arden ;  clay  from  the  bed 
of  the  Avon ;  sticks  and  mud  at  best  compose  the  nest  in  which 
the  Mighty  Mother  brought  the  immortal  Swan  to  light.  It  was 
once  a  better  nest  than  now.  A  butcher  has  degraded  it  to  serve 
as  shambles,  and  it  has  yet  the  appearance  of  a  stall  for  meat, 
although  it  is  no  longer  used,  except  as  a  relic,  the  show-woman 
being  its  only  tenant.  Here,  in  spite  of  its  transmutations,  you 
cannot  but  fancy  the  elder  Shakspeare,  "with  spectacles  on 
nose,"  sitting  in  the  spacious  chimney,  and  teaching  little  Will 
his  alphabet,  or  telling  him,  beside  the  winter's  fire,  of  the 
"mysteries"  he  had  seen  played,  near  by,  at  Coventry,  when  he 
was  a  boy.  Through  the  door,  you  seem  yet  to  see  the  marvel- 
lous urchin,  with  his  satchel,  creeping  unwillingly  to  school :  or, 
back  he  comes,  with  shining  face,  to  tell  that  the  Queen's  players 
have  just  arrived  from  London,  to  play  "  Troy-town,"  at  the 
Guildhall !  Here,  at  all  events,  day  after  day  went  over  that 
mysterious  young  head,  filling  it  with  impressions,  not  one  of 
which  ever  seems  to  have  escaped  it,  and  preparing  its  tenant 
genius  to  be  the  great  bridge  between  old  and  modern  England, 
by  means  of  which,  feeling,  as  well  as  fact,  runs  on  continuously, 
in  the  line  of  English  History,  and  gives  it  a  unity  and  a  vitality 
which  the  annals  of  other  nations  lack.  g  Oh,  strange,  immortal, 
universal  Will !  How  supernatural  the  interest  that  hangs  about 
thine  every  step,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

You  ascend  a  few  creaking  stairs,  and  you  are  in  the  very- 
room  where  the  first  of  his  Seven  Ages  was,  no  doubt,  duly  sig- 
nalized by  himself,  "  mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms." 
How  many  lives  have  been  the  mere  pendants  of  the  life  that 
here  flickered  in  its  first  lighting,  and  which  a  puff  of  air  might 
have  put  out — the  world  none  the  sadder  for  its  loss  !  Yet  now, 
how  supreme  the  dominion  of  that  one  soul,  these  scribbled  walls 
attest ;  where  vulgar  enthusiasm  is  not  more  legible,  than  that  of 
the  worldly  great,  of  foreign  scholars  and  sovereign  princes,  and 
of  intellectual  autocrats  scarce  less  imperial  than  Shakspeare 
himself.     How  powerful  the  inspiration  of  the  genius  loci,  is  best 


SHAKSPEARE.  183 

proved  by  the  fact  that  among  the  scribblings  one  reads  the  auto- 
graph of  Walter  Scott.  Verily,  there  is  no  fame  like  Shaks- 
peare's  !  Subduing,  as  he  does,  the  instincts  of  all  classes  alike, 
and  entering  as  he  does,  into  the  sympathies  of  all  nations,  he 
must  be  regarded  less  as  a  man  of  genius,  than  as  a  noble  instru- 
ment of  God,  for  subordinating  human  passions  and  affections  to 
some  superior  purpose  of  His  own,  perhaps  not  yet  conceived. 
The  rise  of  a  Christian  literature,  and  that  the  purest  which  the 
world  has  ever  possessed,  is  dated  from  the  age  of  which  he  was 
the  bright  peculiar  star ;  and  the  whole  Anglo-Saxon  race  must 
ever  recognize  in  him  the  original  master  of  many  of  its  forms 
of  thought,  a  rich  contributor  to  its  idiom  and  language,  and  the 
constructor  of  some  of  its  strongest  sentiments  of  civilization,  of 
morals,  and  of  religion. 

The  site  of  the  New  Place  is  occupied  by  a  solid  mansion, 
which,  devoid  of  interest  in  itself,  commands  a  moment's  atten- 
tion, as  occupying  the  spot  on  which  Shakspeare's  prosperous 
days  were  passed,  and  which  was  emphatically  his  home.  All 
that  remains  of  him,  in  this  place,  and  its  immediate  neighbour- 
hood, is  nevertheless  soon  seen  and  dismissed,  as;  nothing  but  the 
enthusiasm  of  an  idolator  would  detect  anything  specially  attrac- 
tive in  a  statue  set  up  by  Garrick  at  the  Town  Hall,  and  a  few 
other  memorials,  too  minute,  or  too  modern,  to  deserve  much  delay 
in  their  inspection.  I  reserved  my  raptures  for  the  walk  to  Shot- 
tery.  Striking  into  the  fields,  I  pleased  myself  with  the  convic- 
tion that  air  and  earth  are  still  very  much  the  same  in  them, 
as  when  the  boy  Shakspeare  played  truant,  and  sported  among 
their  sweets.  The  birds  and  the  flowers  are  still  as  gay  as  when 
he  preferred  to  learn  their  lessons,  rather  than  the  schoolmaster's; 
and  when  I  turned  into  a  shady  lane,  all  green  and  white  with 
hawthorn,  or  plucked  the  peas'  blossom  in  the  upland,  or  the 
buttercup  and  daisy  in  the  meadow,  I  felt  sure  that  his  foot  had 
fallen  where  they  grew,  and  that  they  had  given  him  pleasure, 
and  taught  him  morals,  which  the  world  has  willingly  taken  at 
second-hand,  and  will  never  M  willingly  let  die."  Yes,  the  very 
labouring  oxen,  and  the  pasturing  cows,  seemed  to  me  of  a  supe- 
rior breed.  Short-horn,  or  Devonshire,  or  whatever  they  may 
be  to  the  farmer,  they  were,  in  my  esteem,  not  less  than  Shaks- 
perean  beef  fed  on  the  grass  of  Stratford,  and  feeding  my 
imagination  with  images  of  the  animated  nature  of  the  same 
scenery,  as  it  was  three  hundred  years  ago.  I  came  to  several 
pretty  farm  cottages,  with  shrubbery  in  their  little  door-yards, 


184  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

and  at  one  of  these  I  knocked.,  thinking  it  must  be  Anne  Hatha- 
way's ;  but  the  damsel  who  opened  the  door  seemed  not  much 
flattered  by  the  inquiry,  for  Anne,  though  she  was  Shakspeare's 
wife,  was  not  an  honest  woman,  by  the  parish  register,  and  has 
little  honour  in  her  own  village.  However,  the  damsel  pointed 
out  my  way,  with  milk-mai4  courtesy,  and  away  I  went  with 
traveller-like  apologies.  Here,  then,  at  last,  was  the  scene  of 
Will's  discreditable  courtship ;  and  here,  if  they  deceived  me  not, 
descendants  of  the  Hathaways  live  still.  The  house  is  in  two 
parts,  like  nave  and  chancel  in  ecclesiastical  architecture ;  tim- 
bered and  plastered,  like  the  birth-place  aforesaid,  and  thatched 
in  the  picturesque  style  so  dear  to  Crayon  artists  and  sketchers ; 
its  little  windows  peeping  out  of  the  straw,  like  sharp  eyes  under 
the  shaggy  brows  of  an  old  pensioner,  sunning  himself  in  front  of 
an  ale-house.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  roses,  and  other  flowers, 
wrere  duly  set  about  the  cottage,  as  one  which  I  plucked,  and 
brought  away,  bears  witness.  They  showed  me  some  old  Hatha- 
way furniture,  and  among  others  an  enormous  bedstead  of  Eliza- 
bethan date,  on  which,  they  would  have  me  believe,  that  many 
of  the  poet's  dreams  had  visited  him.  There  was  also  an  ancient 
oaken  chair :  and  finally,  some  bed  and  table  linen  was  taken  out 
of  an  old  chest.  It  was  evidently  homespun,  and  they  believed 
it  to  be  Anne's  work,  as  well  as  property.  With  this  view  of  the 
matter,  however,  the  initials  E.  H.  did  not  entirely  agree,  and  al- 
though I  was  inclined  to  yield  this  objection  at  the  moment,  when 
credulity  was  allowable,  I  do  not  now  flatter  myself  that  I  have 
seen  the  bedstead  or  the  bed-clothes  of  Shakspeare.  It  is  some- 
thing better  that  I  have  seen  the  Church  in  which  he  was  christ- 
ened, and  where  he  now  lies,  under  the  chancel ;  and  where  he 
was  taught  to  pray ;  and  where  he  often  knelt,  one  would  fain 
believe,  in  true  contrition ;  and  where  he  learned,  from  some 
lowly  parson,  unknown  to  fame,  many  of  those  sublime  and  gos- 
pel verities,  which  have  given,  even  to  his  poorer  themes,  their 
savor  of  immortality. 

The  avenue  of  limes  which  leads  to  the  church-porch,  is  rather 
stiff  than  otherwise.  The  "  way  to  Parish  Church"  was  proba- 
bly unpaved,  and  perhaps  unshaded,  when  Will  tottered  over  it, 
to  be  catechised ;  or  when,  in  maturer  years,  he  sought  the  House 
of  God  with  reverence,  among  the  multitude  that  kept  holy 
day.  The  Church  itself  is  of  Anglo-Norman  date,  and  was 
originally  such  in  its  architecture*  but  has  frequently  been  altered 
and  repaired,  at  various  periods.     It  is  cruciform,  and  would  be 


THE    EPITAPH.  185 

not  unworthy  of  a  visit  for  its  own  sake.  The  churchyard  is  full 
of  graves,  and  the  Avon  flows  under  its  walls.  I  sat  there,  for 
nearly  an  hour,  quite  alone,  trying  to  grasp  the  full  idea  of  the 
spot.  A  lubberly  scow  came  paddling  along  on  the  turbid  river ; 
and  the  rooks  started  up,  and  then  lighted  upon  the  old  gray 
tower ;  and  some  sheep  came  nibbling  among  the  graves ;  and 
finally,  two  or  three  children  ran  about  me,  and  kept  me  com- 
pany, for  awhile;  but  oh!  how  unconscious  seemed  all  these  of 
the  great  reality  of  the  place,  and  how  still  and  solemnly  the 
poet  slumbered  on,  in  his  sepulchre,  unconscious  of  this  prosy 
nineteenth  century,  which  thus  wags  on  without  him.  I  took 
out  my  tablets  in  a  sort  of  reverie ;  wrote  down  the  date,  and 
scribbled  on  at  random,  as  follows :  '  Here,  in  the  churchyard  of 
Stratford,  I  am  sitting  on  the  stone-wall,  which  defends  it  from 
the  Avon,  and  at  the  foot  of  which,  its  fringe  of  flags  grows  rank, 
amid  the  slime.  The  sun,  through  the  half-misty  atmosphere,  is 
falling  tenderly  on  the  limes ;  birds  are  singing ;  a  rook  cawing ; 
nobody  is  near,  but  the  breeze  whispers,  socially,  through  the  elms 
overhead.  How  still  the  old  spire  points  up  to  heaven  !  How 
dearly  the  grass  clings  to  the  tower  and  belfry,  growing  there  in 
eveiy  "  coigne  of  vantage  !"  And  this  quiet  old  chancel,  too ! 
Within  these  walls  was  Shakspeare  made  a  member  of  Christ, 
and  here  he  waits  the  Judgment.  Oh,  Will !  how  much  for  thee 
imports  the  Scripture,  "  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  justified,  and 
by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  condemned  !"  ' 

The  old  legendary  sexton  of  Irving's  visit  has  passed  away, 
and  another  reigns  in  his  stead.  Availing  myself  of  his  keys,  I 
excused  him  from  any  further  effort  of  his  tongue,  and  survey- 
ed the  solemn  interior  in  peace.  Here,  too,  the  hand  of  restora- 
tion has  been  freshly  at  work,  and  has  set  the  holy  house  in 
order.  The  Church  which  enfolds  the  tomb  of  Shakspeare  is 
dedicated  to  the  Holy  Trinity — the  God  who  made  him,  and 
whom  he  adored.  The  meagre  god  of  unbelief  would  never  have 
filled  such  a  soul  as  his,  or  moved  him  to  kneel  down  ;  but  how 
often  that  overwhelming  Mystery  of  Faith  must  have  thrilled 
him  here,  as  he  repeated  the  creed,  or  chanted  the  Te  Deum  !  At 
last  I  stood  before  the  famous  bust,  and  looked  upon  that  sub- 
lime forehead,  and  those  composed  features,  and  said  to  it  silently 
those  brotherly  lines  of  Milton,  which  the  sight  brings  naturally 
to  mind.  Then  I  read  the  inscription,  and  spelled  out,  letter  by 
letter,  the  words  of  that  imprecatory  verse,  in  which  Shakspeare' s 
self  is  as  legible  as  anything  else.       "Good  friend,  for  Jesu's 


186  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

sake,"  etc. — Amen,  was  my  response.     It  was  a  moment  to  re- 
member, but  not  to  describe. 

I  next  tried  to  satisfy  myself  as  to  the  sense  of  Mistriss  Hall's 
epitaph,  which  is  ambiguous ;  and  on  which  the  inspection  of  the 
original  throws  little  additional  light.  It  tells  us  first,  that  she 
was  "  witty  above  her  sexe,"  and  second,  that  she  was  "  wise  to 
salvation,"  and  then  adds : 

"  Something  of  Shakspeare  was  in  that — but  this 
Wholly  of  him,  with  whom  she's  now  in  blisse." 

Now,  of  course,  this  him  must  mean  her  Saviour,  with  whom 
she  is  in  Paradise ;  yet,  it  may  mean,  for  all  that,  her  father 
Shakspeare ;  and  the  question  is,  was  not  the  ambiguity  a  quaint 
conceit,  and  intended  to  be  a  doublet  %  If  so,  as  it  has  often 
struck  me,  whatever  Ave  may  think  of  its  taste,  it  is  an  important 
testimony  to  the  maturer  character  of  the  poet ;  since  its  second- 
ary meaning  would  be,  to  give  it  in  paraphrase — that  her  wit  had 
something  in  it  of  Shakspeare,  but  that  her  piety  was  wholly 
learned  of  her  father,  with  whom  she  now  reaps  its  reward.  Now 
if  we  exclude  this  idea,  it  would  almost  seem  to  force  us  into  the 
sad  reverse ;  for  certainly,  as  it  is  first  read,  it  seems  to  imply 
that  she  was  not  indebted  to  her  father  for  any  of  her  religion, 
though  she  was  for  her  wit.  Of  course,  it  may  be  answered,  that 
wisdom  unto  salvation  is  so  exclusively  from  Christ,  as  its  meritori- 
ous cause,  that  nothing  else  is  to  be  taken  into  account,  as  its  in- 
strument -,  but  is  this  the  sole  idea  of  the  verse !  Very  likely ; 
and  yet  after  all,  I  wonder  that  its  ambiguous  character  has  never 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  many  who  have  raked  and  scraped 
the  very  dust  of  Stratford  for  something  rich  and  strange.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  that,  like  many  readings  of  Shakspeare  himself,  it  wants 
but  a  change  of  emphasis,  from  word  to  word,  to  give  two  or 
three  different  senses,  any  one  of  which  is  tolerable,  although  it 
is  an  intolerably  bad  epitaph,  after  all. 

I  believe  the  droppings  of  this  Church  of  Stratford  bedew  the 
works  of  Shakspeare,  from  the  first  sonnet  to  the  last  play,  and 
that  here  he  was  schooled  to  that  strict  law  of  his  dramas,  which 
runs  through  all,  and  by  which  he  always  "  shows  virtue  her  own 
feature,  and  scorn  her  own  image,"  instead  of  fitting  the  mask 
of  propriety  upon  the  front  of  shame.  More  than  all,  it  was 
here  that  he  learned  that  reverence  for  the  name  of  Jesus,  with 
which  he  so  often  embalms  his  pages,  and  which  so  often  makes 
them  melodious  to  a  believer's  ear  and  heart. 


THE  poet's  piety.  187 

the  first  and  second  lesson  out  of  ;;  the  Bishop's  Bible" — how 
much  the  Epistle  and  Gospel,  and  the  Psalter,  taught  him,  not 
only  of  sonorous  English,  but  of  Christian  doctrine  and  morals! 
I  am  sure  these  influences  may  be  detected  in  his  works;  and  as 
I  looked  at  the  very  spot  where  his  young  idea  was  taught  to 
shoot  toward  heaven,  I  felt  that  this  was  the  sublimest  associa- 
tion of  the  place.  Here  once  (my  fancy  suggested)  he  may  have 
heard  in  the  lesson  for  the  day — suffer  children  to  come  unto  Afe, 
and  then,  a  few  verses  afterwards,  he  must  have  been  struck  with 
the  contrast,  when  the  parson  read  on — it  is  easier  for  a  camell  to 
go  thorow  a  ncdle's  eye,  etc.  He  was  now  a  prosperous  man,  and 
had  just  purchased  New-Place,  and  obtained  a  grant  of  Arms. 
His  conscience  therefore  pricked  him  with  the  question — Was  he 
one  of  the  rich  men  for  whom  admission  into  heaven  was  to  be 
so  hard?  The  parson  mounted  the  pulpit,  and  quoted  much 
learned  stuff  out  of  Sir  John  Maundeville,  to  explain  the  oriental- 
ism of  the  lesson  :  and  among  other  things,  he  threw  out  the  idea 
that  the  postern  gate  of  an  Eastern  city  was  so  small,  that  it  was 
impossible  for  a  beast  of  burthen  to  pass  through  it.  and  was 
usually  called  "the  needle's  eye,"  and  hence  the  force  of  the  com- 
parison. All  this,  Shakspeare,  who  was  thinking  his  own  thoughts, 
heard  only  incoherently,  and  he  got  a  somewhat  confused  idea  of 
the  posteifi  and  needle  ;  but  being,  jusi  then,  at  work  on  his  Richard 
the  Second,  he  goes  home,  and  puts  his  Sunday  reverie  into  the 
mouth  of  his  hero,  thus : — 

11  My  thoughts  of  things  divine  are  intermixed 
With  scruples,  and  do  set  the  word  itself 
Against  the  word, 

As  thus — Come  little  ones;  and  then,  again, 
It  is  as  hard  to  come,  as  for  a  camel 
To  thread  the  postern  of  a  needle's  eye.'''' 

Such  at  least  is  the  story,  which  this  passage  suggests  to  me  as, 
very  possibly,  the  way  in  which  it  came  to  him.  I  often  trace  to 
a  similar  source,  that  is,  to  the  open  Scriptures,  and  the  vernacu- 
lar services  of  the  Church  of  England,  the  innumerable  Siloan 
streams  which  freshen  and  even  sanctify  his  verse.  The  great 
themes  of  redemption  may  be  found  richly  illustrated  in  many 
passages ;  and  I  think  I  could  select  from  his  works  enough  of 
sacred  poetry  to  fill  a  little  volume,  and  one  fit  to  be  kept  as  a 
companion  to  the  Prayer-Book  and  the  Christian  Year.  I  can- 
not credit  the  scandal  that  Shakspeare  died  of  a  debauch,  nor  do 
I  believe  he  was  less  than   an   ordinary  Christian.     While  the 


188  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

secrets  of  his  heart  are  with  his  God,  we  may  at  least,  in  Chris- 
tian charity,  believe  that  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners  may 
have  seen  in  him  a  practical  dependence  upon  that  Atonement 
which,  by  the  mouth  of  Portia,  he  has  preached  so  well : — 

— "  Therefore,  Jew, 
Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this, 
That  in  the  course  of  justice  none  of  us 
Should  see  salvation  ;  we  do  pray  for  mercy." 

As  I  departed,  I  plucked  a  branch  of  ivy  from  the  Church 
wall,  near  the  spot  where  his  dust  awaits  the  resurrection.  It 
was  brought  home  with  me  to  America — the  land  in  which  he 
has  more  readers  than  anywhere  else  in  the  whole  world.  How 
little  he  foresaw  this,  when  in  compliment  to  James  the  First,  he 
recorded  (if  the  passage  be  his  own)  the  prediction  that  James 
should  "  make  new  nations ;"  adding — what  proves  rather  true 
of  himself — 

"  Wherever  the  bright  sun  of  heaven  shall  shine, 
His  honour,  and  the  greatness  of  his  name 
Shall  be!" 

A  threatening  rain  prevented  my  walking  to  Charlecote,  but  I 
went  away  contented.  I  was  inclined  to  indulge  a  little  in 
Jacques'  vein,  and  the  melancholy  clouds  began  to  favour  us 
with  congenial  tears,  as — reduced  to  sober  prose — I  made  my 
way  in  the  storm,  on  the  top  of  a  stage-coach,  through  what  was 
once  the  Forest  of  Arden. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


Haddon  Hall — Chatsworth — Shrewsbury — Cliestcr. 

After  renewing  my  acquaintance  with  the  hospitable  friends 
at  B .  with  whom  I  had  passed  my  Easter,  I  made  an  ex- 
cursion into  Derbyshire,  with  an  episodical  trip  to  Nottingham. 
My  chief  attraction  to  this  latter  place  was  that  of  an  invitation 

from  sundry  relatives  of  my  B friends  to  visit  them,  though 

the  town  is  certainly  well  worthy  of  being  visited  for  itself.  For 
the  sake  of  poor  Kirke-AYhitc,  one  would  wish  to  hunt  up  his 
lowly  birth-place,  and  some  would  say  that  Newstead  Abbey 
deserves  a  traveller's  homage.  In  fact,  the  Park  and  Abbey  are 
the  srreat  charm  of  the  neighbourhood,  to  most  visitors;  but  I  must 
own  that  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
scene  of  those  orgies  for  which  it  is  chiefly  distinguished.  On 
making  some  such  remark  to  a  worthy  ex-magistrate  of  the  borough, 
I  was  struck  with  the  downright  English  common  sense  of  his 
reply. — ,;  You  are  quite  right  " — said  he — "  no  one  thinks  much 
of  Lord  Byron,  in  these  parts,  where  he  was  known  ;  he  cheated 
the  tradesmen  with  whom  he  had  dealings,  and  made  himself  so 
odious,  that  when  his  remains  were  brought  through  Nottingham, 
to  be  buried,  we  could  not  make  up  our  minds  to  pay  him  any  ho- 
nours !"  So  much  for  romance  and  misanthropy !  Genius,  with- 
out honour  and  morality,  is  despicable  indeed :  and  one  even  doubts 
the  sentimental  refinement  of  the  man,  of  whom  an  intimate 
friend  and  companion  could  say,  with  anything  like  epigramma- 
tic truthfulness,  that  "he  cried  for  the  press,  and  wiped  his  eyes 
with  the  public." 

A  visit  to  the  castle,   and  its  caves,  to  which  my  reverend 

friend  from  B ■  conducted  me,  well  repaid  us  for  our  walk  to 

the  eminence  on  which  it  stands  in  ruins.     It  belonged  to  the 


190  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

late  Duke  of  Newcastle,  and  was  burned,  as  I  remember  very 
well,  during  the  Reform  riots,  by  an  infuriate  mob :  but  it  is  sup- 
posed, that  the  stiff  old  aristocrat  whom  they  meant  to  injure, 
was  very  well  pleased  with  the  outrage.  He  did  not  inhabit  it ; 
he  was  well  reimbursed  for  his  loss ;  and  was  relieved  from  the 
tax  of  keeping  up  an  unnecessary  residence.  The  caves  which 
undermine  the  castle,  are  famous  for  their  historical  connection 
with  the  story  of  the  "She-wolf  of  France:"  for  through  them 
was  made  the  entrance  into  the  fortress,  which  resulted  in  the 
arrest  of  Isabella  and  her  paramour.  They  still  point  out  a  cer- 
tain cave,  as  Mortimer's ;  but  the  whole  rock  is  riddled  by 
fissures  and  loop-holes,  and  appears  to  be  very  soft  and  friable. 
From  the  summit  one  gets  a  beautiful  view  of  Clifton-grove  and 
the  Yale  of  Trent ;  and  on  another  side  of  Belvoir  Castle,  (pro- 
nounced Beaver.)  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland.  The  "  Field 
of  the  Standard"  is  near  the  castle,  and  I  surveyed,  with  deep 
feeling,  the  spot  where  King  Charles  set  up  his  ensign,  to  be  torn 
down  by  the  storm  the  same  night,  and  to  be  even  more  unfor- 
tunate, in  the  issue,  than  the  omen  seemed  to  require.  After  a 
visit  to  a  few  of  the  churches  and  public  buildings,  and  a  single 
night  under  one  of  its  roofs,  I  was  off  to  Derbyshire. 

With  Derby  itself  I  was  not  long  detained,  though  I  cannot 
but  remember,  with  pleasure,  the  acquaintance  I  formed  there 
with  several  very  agreeable  persons.  Perhaps  the  most  interest- 
ing thing  about  Derby  is  the  historical  reminiscence,  that  here  the 
progress  of  the  Stuart  standard  was  finally,  and  forever  arrested. 
It  is  surprising  that  "Royal  Charlie"  ever  succeeded  in  pushing 
his  invasion  to  this  point :  but  thus  much  he  effected,  in  the  fatal 
'45,  and  the  spot  where  he  was  lodged,  in  Derby,  is  still  shown 
by  the  townsfolk,  with  interest,  if  not  enthusiasm. 

Even  railway  glimpses  of  Derbyshire  give  one  many  pleasura- 
ble emotions,  abounding  as  it  does  in  beautiful  valleys  and  streams, 
and  in  abrupt  rocky  hills — -jocosely  described  by  Walton,  as 
frightful  and  savage,  to  such  a  degree  that  he  affects  surprise  at 
the  sight  of  a  church  among  them,  and  asks  whether  there  be 
verily  any  Christians  in  such  a  country.  When,  at  last,  I  found 
myself  strolling  along  the  Wye,  and  conversing  with  an  angler, 
in  the  green  mead,  just  within  sight  of  the  battlements  of  Haddon 
Hall,  all  the  delicious  nature  and  good  humour  of  old  Izaak  came 
upon  me,  and  observing  that  nothing  near  me  seemed  to  be  of 
modern  fashion,  I  was  almost  transported  back  two  centuries, 
and  fancied  myself  for  a  moment  at  his  side,  learning,  like  Venator, 


OLD    IZAAK.  191 

to  love  angling,  and  so  to  weather  the  evil  days  of  Cromwell — ■ 
studying  to  be  quiet  in  that  vocation,  and  to  mind  my  own  busi- 
ness, as  the  apostle  doth  enjoin.  It  had  been  my  purpose  to 
visit  Dove-dale,  in  honour  of  AValton,  but  this  I  found  im- 
practicable, and  the  nearest  I  could  come  to  it  was  now  realized. 
Blessings  on  his  worthy  memory!  for  though  I  be  not  an  accepted 
brother  of  the  angle,  having  never  enjoyed  great  luck  when  I 
have  gone  a  fishing,  yet  do  I  allow  the  art  all  honour,  and  do 
consider  it  the  becoming  recreation  for  a  Churchman  ;  admitting 
its  connection  with  the  catechism,  and  saying  Amen  to  divers 
other  postulates  of  Walton,  of  like  grave  and  self-evident  char- 
acter. 

I  must  own  that  I  found  Iladdon  Hall  of  considerably  less 
dimensions  than  I  had  foreshadowed  to  my  fancy.  I  had  sup- 
posed its  smallest  chamber  one  of  those  gigantic  apartments,  in 
which  candles  and  fire-light  must  strive  in  vain  to  throw  their 
illumination  from  the  chimney-piece  to  the  opposite  wainscot ; 
or  in  which  a  nocturnal  guest  might  find  the  freest  exercise  of 
imagination,  in  looking  after  noises,  toward.-  the  dark  distance, 
from  the  lamp  at  hi-  bedside,  of  the  waving  hangings  and  creak- 
ing doors.  It  is  not  altogether  such  a  house  as  that  ;  and  yet  if 
there  be  a  better  site  for  the  residence  of  a  ghost,  or  a  troop  of 
them,  I  have  never  seen  it.  Your  nervous  man  should  never  try 
to  lodge  there.  It  is  stripped  of  nearly  all  its  furniture,  save 
only  such  as  is  requisite  to  give  full  effect  to  midnight  sounds 
and  mysterious  moanings.  Its  history  is  lost  in  that  of  the  dim 
and  traditionary  ages  of  the  Plantagenets ;  the  windows  of  its 
lonely  chapel  bear  the  date  1427  ;  and  the  last  touches  of  the 
builder  were  given  to  it  at  least  three  hundred  years  ago.  There 
it  stands — a  relic  of  the  domestic  architecture  of  feudal  England. 
Here  are  turreted  and  embattled  gate-ways,  and  quadrangular 
courts,  enclosed  as  if  to  stand  a  siege.  The  kitchen  is  designed 
for  the  largest  hospitality;  spits,  dressers  and  chopping  block, 
all  speaking  of  the  bountiful  housekeeping  of  the  olden  time — to 
say  nothing  of  the  vast  chimneys,  which  seem  made  to  roar  with 
Christmas  tires  perpetually.  You  ascend  a  great  stair-case,  on 
winch  it  seems  almost  profane  to  set  a  modern  foot,  so  entirely 
does  it  bespeak  its  ancient  right  to  be  trodden  by  the  doughty 
and  dainty  steps  of  lords  and  dames,  in  the  attire  of  by-gone 
centuries.  You  enter  a  room  hung  with  antique  tapestry,  now 
ready  to  drop  into  tatters.  You  push-to  the  old  squeaking  doors, 
and  drop  these  hangings,  and  it  no   longer  appears  how  you  got 


192  IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

in,  or  how  you  may  get  out.  You  understand  at  once  the  allu- 
sions of  many  an  old  play,  and  almost  expect  to  find  some  thievish 
figure  lurking  behind  the  arras.  Hangings  they  truly  are,  for 
hooks  are  built  into  the  wall,  and  to  these  the  arras  are  attached. 
But  the  "Long  Gallery"  is  the  place  in  which  a  ghost  would 
naturally  air  himself.  It  is  wainscoated  and  floored  with  oak, 
and  ornamented  with  various  carved  devices  and  emblems,  such 
as  the  rose,  and  the  thistle,  and  the  boar's  head ;  and  then  it  has 
deep  recessed  window-seats  and  oriels ;  and  some  of  them  look 
out  on  the  sunny  terraces  of  the  garden,  and  suggest  vague  ideas 
of  romance,  and  create  phantom  ladies  of  olden  time,  to  fill  up 
the  scene,  and  rich  illustrative  stories  to  make  them  interesting. 
No  doubt  real  hearts  have  throbbed  here  with  high  and  tender 
emotions :  and  events  which  we  know  only  as  the  dry  details  of 
history,  have  filled  these  silent  chambers  with  notes  of  joy  or 
sorrow,  with  the  wail  of  the  widow  or  the  forlorn  maiden,  or 
with  the  voice  of  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride.  The  stately 
Elizabeth  is  said  to  have  once  figured  in  this  gallery,  at  a  ball. 

The  architecture  of  the  great  hall  is  severely  antique,  and 
suggests  a  rude  and  uncivil  age,  in  spite  of  its  air  of  dignity  and 
hospitality.  The  men  who  dined  here  evidently  wore  swords, 
and  the  loving-cup  and  health-drinking  were  no  mere  ceremonies ; 
the  party  who  drank,  as  he  lifted  his  arm,  looking  narrowly  at 
the  friend  who  stood  up  to  guard  him.  A  hand-cuff  which  is 
fastened  to  the  wood-work  seems  to  hint  that  guests  were  some- 
times troublesome  after  taking  plenty  of  sack.  I  could  think  of 
nothing  but  Twelfth-night  revels  in  this  curious  old  place,  adorned 
as  it  is  with  the  antlers  of  stags  that  were  hunted  long  ago,  and 
whose  venison  once  smoked  on  the  board. 

The  terraced  gardens,  with  their  shades,  and  balusters,  and 
steps,  and  walks,  and  portals,  are  in  keeping  with  all  the  rest, 
and  the  tale  of  the  Lady  Dorothea  Vernon,  and  of  her  mysterious 
elopement,  is  enough  to  fill  them  with  the  charm  of  romance. 
From  one  of  the  towers  you  look  down  upon  the  whole  range  of 
roofs  and  courts,  and  then  gaze  far  away  over  a  beautiful  view 
of  the  vale  of  Haddon.  Before  you  depart  you  are  shown  some 
ancient  utensils  belonging  to  the  place,  such  as  jack-boots,  and 
match-locks,  and  doublets.  These  are  kept  in  the  apartment  of 
my  reverend  brother,  the  domestic  chaplain,  whoever  he  may 
have  been ;  but  whether  he  had  any  use  for  such  things  I  cannot 
bear  testimony.  The  adjoining  chapel  in  which  he  officiated  is 
very  small,  and  quite  plain.     The  ancient  piscina,   beside  the 


AN   OLD   CHAPEL.  193 

altar,  tolls  its  simple  story  of  the  rites  which,  according  to  the 
niediarral  liturgy  of  England,  hallowed  it  of  yore.  It  conjured 
Dp  before  my  fancy  the  midnight  mass  of  Christmas,  as  described 
by  Scott — 

"  That  night  alone,  of  all  the  year, 
Saw  the  stoled  priest  the  chalice  rear." 

It  was,  at  any  rate,  no  Tridentine  Eucharist,  though  it  was  a 
mutilated  one ;  and  sad  as  were  the  scenes  of  debauchery  with 
which  those  solemnities  are  associated,  I  could  not  but  trust  that, 
even  here,  Christ  crucified  had  been  truly  worshipped,  of  old,  on 
the  solemn  feast  of  his  Nativity,  and  on  many  other  occasions  of 
Christian  joy  or  penitence.  Who  would  not  cling  to  such  com- 
munion with  ancient  piety?  And  yet  this  natural  sympathy, 
when  morbidly  developed,  has  done  more  than  all  things  else 
together,  to  bewitch  the  imaginative  with  Romanism,  and  to  make 
them  slavish  captives  to  a  Church  which  has  retained  nothing 
mediaeval  except  that  newfangled  creed,  to  which  the  departed 
spirit  of  Mediawalisni  has  bequeathed  none  of  its  poetry,  and 
which  only  exists  as  the  inanimate  slough  of  its  superstition. 

Compared  with  Haddon  Hall,  the  superb  modern  residence  of 
Chatsworth  struck  me  as  tame  and  spiritless.  The  mansion  has 
indeed  a  pleasant  seat :  and  the  deer,  bounding  over  the  velvet 
turf  of  its  park,  or  the  peacock,  strutting  amid  its  balusters  and 
fountains,  give  it  indeed  a  lordly  look  of  opulent  show,  without 
much  ease.  Yet  what  is  it,  at  best,  but  the  dull  round  of  "  my 
lord's  apartments,"  without  one  association  beyond  that  of  my 
lord's  great  wealth  and  luxury  ?  I  should  be  ashamed  to  confess, 
indeed,  that  I  was  not  pleased  with  the  pictures,  and  more  than 
pleased  with  the  exquisite  carvings  and  magnificent  sculpture, 
viewed  merely  as  works  of  art ;  but  I  was  fatigued  with  the  vast 
worldliness  of  such  a  house,  and  felt  that  it  would  better  have 
suited  a  Hadrian,  than  it  does  a  Christian  nobleman  of  England. 
Such  a  residence  as  Warwick  Castle  comes  to  its  possessor  "histo- 
rically, and  a  nobleman  may  well  keep  it  up ;  but  Chatsworth 
seems  built  for  display,  and  must  bs  altogether  too  much  for 
comfort.  I  am  glad  if  its  possessor  enjoys  it — but  I  should  rather 
dwell  in  the  humblest  parsonage  in  England.  Nature  itself,  as 
Been  from  the  windows  of  Chatsworth.  has  a  combed  and  di 
look.  Its  vast  conservatory — the  original  of  the  Crystal  Palace- 
is  well  worth  a  visit,  and  its  gardens  are  curious  enough,  but 
the  water-works  are  elaborately  frivolous.  I  was  promised  a 
tine  artificial  cataract — but  lo !    in  the  side  of  a  beautiful  hill  I 

9 


194  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

saw  a  stone  stair-case,  and  by-and-by  the  water  came  sluggishly 
down  stairs,  like  a  little  girl,  in  white  dress,  afraid  to  let  go  of  the 
hand  rail,  as  she  leaps  timidly  from  step  to  step.  "  Good  morn- 
ing, Miss  Cataract,"  said  I,  "  that  will  do !" 

The  same  clipped  and  artificial  beauty  belongs  to  the  neigh- 
bouring village  of  Edensor,  and  the  whole  seems  the  more  un- 
real as  contrasting  violently  with  the  natural  features  of  this 
wild  and  ruggedly  beautiful  country.  I  am  glad  to  have  seen 
Chatsworth,  but  I  should  not  care  to  see  it  again,  though  the 
desolate  Haddon  Hall  never  recurs  in  my  memory,  Avithout 
awakening  fresh  longings  to  be  once  more  in  Derbyshire,  and  to 
saunter  again  along  its  rushing  Wye. 

With  my  visit  to  Matlock  Bath,  I  was  much  better  satisfied. 
Here  indeed  is  Derbyshire,  in  spite  of  spruce  inns  and  fashionable 
boarding-houses.  I  scampered  over  the  hills,  (having  first  climbed 
them  with  more  pleasure  than  fatigue,)  and  went  from  view  to 
view  with  increasing  transports.  This  region  is  all  cliff  and  ravine, 
and  precipice  and  chasm ;  yet  in  every  direction  the  eye  is  re- 
freshed and  delighted,  and  the  mind  takes  pleasure  alike  in  think- 
ing that  it  is  scarcely  English  scenery,  and  that  it  is  yet  strikingly 
unlike  anything  but  England  after  all!  These  sharp  outlines, 
and  bold  Avails  of  rock,  for  example,  you  say  are  somewhat  Swiss ; 
but  as  you  look  over  them,  towards  the  horizon,  you  see  that 
their  foliage  and  their  \Terdure  are  English,  absolutely ;  and  then, 
looking  down  the  chasm,  at  your  feet,  you  see  a  trim  and  neat 
little  village,  and  houses  set  in  gardens,  and  peeping  out  from 
shrubbery,  and  especially  a  church,  altogether  such  as  no  one 
ever  sees  save  in  England  only!  I  entered  the  Speedwell  miney 
and  went  through  the  usual  experiments  writh  lights  amid  the 
spar,  but,  on  the  whole,  the  subterranean  part  of  Matlock  was 
Avhat  I  liked  least  about  it.  I  felt  lonely,  however,  in  enjoying 
my  ramble  about  so  beautiful  a  place,  and  the  company  of  certain 
loved  ones  in  America  Avas  longed  for  over  and  over  again  to 
make  it  all  that  I  desired.  From  this  delightful  place  I  made 
my  way  to  ShreAvsbury. 

Beautiful  is  Shrewsbury,  without  and  Avithin !  Its  spires  and 
its  towers  give  you  far-off  promise  of  a  place  worthy  of  the 
traveller's  halt,  and  when  you  enter  its  old-fashioned  streets,  you 
are  not  disappointed.  I  found  the  market-place,  Avith  its  hall  and 
surrounding  mansions,  quite  as  unmodernized  as  those  of  towns 
in  the  north  of  France.  The  projecting  gable  of  many  an  old 
timbered   house    confronts   you   as  you  go  hither   and   thither 


A   SEDAN   CHAIK.  195 

through  the  borough,  and  very  often  the  woodwork  of  such 
houses  is  fancifully  arranged  and  ornamented,  in  a  manner  highly 
effective  and  picturesque.  Their  modern  tenants  paint  the  tim- 
bers with  grave,  but  appropriate  colours,  and  whitewash  the 
plastered  walls  which  intervene,  thus  bringing  out  the  full  design 
of  the  ancient  architect  in  a  neat  and  striking  manner.  I  saw, 
in  one  of  the  streets,  a  chair  carried  by  bearers,  precisely  as  in 
Hogarth's  prints,  and  which  seemed  to  have  been  in  use  ever 
since  Hogarth's  day.  Its  occupant  was  a  portly  female,  who 
might  have  graced  the  Court  of  Queen  Anne,  so  far  as  her 
appearance  was  concerned,  and  what  with  such  an  apparition,  in 
a  place  altogether  so  antique,  I  found  myself  for  a  moment  quite 
in  doubt  whether  the  nineteenth  century  were  actually  in  exist- 
ence, with  its  many  inventions. 

I  went  through  the  beautiful  and  finely-wooded  field  called  the 
Quarry,  and  the  walk  called  St.  C/iacPs,  and  crossed  one  of  the 
bridges  over  the  Severn  to  the  Abbey  Church.  Here  I  found 
some  interesting  monuments  and  architectural  curiosities  ;  and  the 
neighbourhood  seemed  to  abound  in  similar  relics  of  what  must 
once  have  been  a  very  large  conventual  establishment.  At  St. 
Mary's,  there  was  a  Jesse-window  and  some  tombs,  which  afford- 
ed me  a  gratifying  occupation  for  awhile ;  then  the  ruins  of  an  old 
castle,  such  as  they  are,  attracted  me ;  and,  though  last,  not  least, 
the  fragments  of  a  very  ancient  church,  being  merely  its  chancel, 
dedicated  to  St.  Chad.  The  school  in  which  Sir  Philip  Sydney 
was  reared,  and  where  Fulke  Grevil  became  his  friend,  still 
swarms  with  the  ingenuous  youth  of  England,  and  I  encountered 
them  at  every  turn,  in  the  highways  and  by-ways  of  the  town. 
What  an  element  of  education  it  must  be  of  itself  for  a  lad  to  be 
sent  to  a  school  that  has  such  a  history !  Such  thoughts  made 
me  faint  of  heart  for  a  moment,  when  I  felt  the  irreparable 
poverty  of  my  own  country  in  historical  associations.  The  in- 
estimable dowry  of  a  glorious  antiquity  can  never  mingle  its 
ennobling  qualities  with  our  national  character.  We  may,  and 
we  do,  enjoy  immense  compensations ;  but  what  reflective  Ameri- 
can does  not  give  way  at  times  to  a  melancholy  sense  that  he  has 
indeed  "  no  past  at  his  back,"  and  that  God  has  isolated  him  in- 
voluntarily, by  this  great  fact,  from  the  fellowship  of  nations! 
"  But  here  comes  a  Shrewsbury  boy,"  said  I,  amid  such  thoughts, 
"  what  cares  he  for  Sydney,  more  than  an  ordinary  American  lad 
at  school  ?"  Sure  enough  !  Why  then  be  sentimental  %  It  is,  after 
all,  only  a  certain  class  of  minds,  that  receives  powerful  impres- 


196  IMPRESSIONS    OF  ENGLAND. 

sions  from  anything  past  or  future :  and  I  believe  an  American 
youth  can  enjoy  such  impressions  effectively,  by  means  of  a 
healthful  imagination,  while  an  English  youth  may  often  find  it 
hard  to  divest  the  realities  with  which  he  is  daily  conversant,  of 
the  degrading  effects  of  familiarity.  Such  is  my  calmer  judg- 
ment. 

I  tasted  the  famous  "  Shrewsbury  cakes"  at  the  station-house, 
and  having  spent  several  hours  "by  Shrewsbury  clock,"  in  this 
pleasing  survey  of  the  old  borough,  I  left  it  with  regret,  pur- 
posing to  return,  and  to  make  excursions  from  it  to  a  neighbour- 
ing seat  to  which  I  had  been  kindly  invited,  and  also  to  Hodnet, 
which  I  greatly  desired  to  see,  in  honour  of  the  gentle  and  be- 
loved Heber.  In  these  plans,  however,  I  was  disappointed.  As 
you  leave  Shrewsbury  for  the  north,  you  gain  a  most  agreeable 
view  of  the  town,  which  stands  on  a  fair  peninsula  in  the  bright 
embrace  of  the  Severn.  It  is  a  place  full  of  poetry.  On  one 
side  are  the  Welsh  Mountains ;  on  the  other,  amid  Salopian  fields, 
you  descry  the  columnar  monument  of  Lord  Hill ;  but  the  tall 
spires  and  the  Abbey  Tower  tell  more  eloquently  of  Hotspur. 

At  Chirk  station  a  Welsh  family  entered  the  train,  gabbling 
their  consonants  most  unintelligibly ;  but  I  soon  discovered  from 
their  adieus,  and  their  tears  and  sighs,  that  they  were  emigrants 
going  to  Liverpool  to  ship  for  America.  This  stirred  up  a  warm 
home-feeling :  I  found  that  one  of  them  could  talk  English,  and 
I  was  not  long  in  finding  a  way  to  their  hearts.  They  were  going 
to  Wisconsin,  and  were  very  willing  to  be  advised  on  ordinary 
matters.  I  tried,  also,  to  impress  them  with  my  own  ideas  of  the 
privileges  they  might  enjoy  under  the  care  of  the  Nashotah  Mis- 
sionaries ;  but  I  fear  they  were  dissenters,  as  the  Welsh  peasantry 
too  often  are,  and  that  my  endeavours  to  add  to  the  burthens  of 
my  esteemed  brethren  of  that  diocese  were  quite  unavailing.  I 
slept  that  night  at  Chester. 

But  I  despair  of  describing  Chester.  Elsewhere  in  England 
you  meet  with  ancient  houses  and  picturesque  streets ;  but  Ches- 
ter is  all  antiquity.  What  you  would  go  miles  to  see,  when  in 
search  of  the  quaintly  beautiful,  is  here  multiplied  before  you  in 
almost  every  house.  In  the  first  place  it  is  a  walled  town.  I 
made  the  circuit  of  the  walls  in  the  morning,  with  constant  emo- 
tions of  astonishment ;  for  they  are  in  good  repair,  and  seem  even 
yet  to  have  their  use,  whereas,  I  had  imagined  them  to  be  mere 
relics  of  the  past.  I  came  to  the  Tower  upon  the  wall,  from  the 
summit  of  which  Charles  the  First  beheld  the  total  rout  of  his 


TOWER   OF   CHARLES  I.  197 

army.  It  is  a  mere  watch-tower ;  but  as  the  memorial  of  a  great 
event,  it  would  be  hard  to  imagine  a  monument  more  striking. 
There  is  much  more  to  interest  the  passenger  as  he  goes  on,  look- 
ing now  into  houses  built  into  the  wall  like  swallows'  nests,  and 
now  into  church-yards,  and  now  into  a  race-course,  and  again  into 
a  river :  but  a  thoughtful  tourist,  and  especially  one  from  America, 
will  find  it  hard  to  think  of  anything  but  that  Tower,  and  the 
mighty  issues  which  were  once  deciding  before  it,  in  view  of  an 
august  and  awfully  interested  spectator.  Poor  King!  as  he 
descended  from  it,  what  must  have  been  his  emotions  ! 

The  streets  of  Chester  are  said  still  to  preserve  the  outlines  of 
the  Roman  camp,  from  which  the  town  derives  its  name.  They 
are  a  great  curiosity  in  themselves,  and  seem  to  have  been  cut 
down  into  the  rock,  while  the  houses  were  reared  on  the  banks, 
above  the  level  thus  obtained.  And  such  houses !  Gable  after 
gable,  timbered,  pargetted,  enriched  with  carving,  and  jutting 
over  the  street — each  one  "  a  picture  for  painters  to  study !" 
And  where  are  the  trottoirs,  or  side-walks  ?  Lo  !  the  houses  all 
run  down  to  the  carriage-way ;  but  what  should  be  their  front 
rooms,  above  the  basement  floor,  are  mere  verandahs,  through  the 
whole  line  of  which  freely  walks  the  public,  always  under  cover, 
and  always  at  home!  These  "rows"  (even  more  than  the  walls) 
are  the  feature  of  Chester  which  most  strikes  the  stranger ;  espe- 
cially as  the  opposite  houses,  which  he  beholds  in  passing 
through  them,  are  full  of  curious  objects  for  any  one  whose  eye 
delights  in  the  antique.  On  one,  for  example,  are  rich  emble- 
matic or  fanciful  decorations  and  carvings ;  on  another,  a  scene 
from  Scripture  history  is  cut  in  uncouth  style ;  while  another 
bears  the  legend:  God's  providence  is  mine  inheritance,  1652.  A 
good  inheritance  always,  but  especially  in  Cromwell's  time.  The 
guide-book  says,  that  in  the  great  plague  of  the  year  thus  desig- 
nated, this  house  was  the  only  one  which  the  destroying  angel  did 
not  visit.     Hence  the  pious  inscription. 

But  there  is  no  doing  justice  to  old  Chester,  on  a  tourist's  page. 
Its  cathedral  is  a  poor  one,  and  so  crumbling  are  its  walls  and 
buttresses,  that  every  shower  washes  down  a  plentiful  soil,  from 
the  decomposing  stone.  I  lingered  without  weariness,  however, 
in  its  aisles  and  cloisters,  and  must  say  that  its  service  was  sung 
delightfully,  although  the  singers  were  few,  and  the  clergy  fewer 
still.  The  same  disgraceful  poverty  and  lifelessness,  which  I  had 
remarked  elsewhere,  characterized  the  visible  force  of  the  estab- 
lishment ;  and  I  could  not  but  say  to  myself,  if  this  feeble  per- 


198  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

formance  is,  nevertheless,  so  edifying  and  effective,  what  might 
not  be  the  blessed  result  of  a  vitalized  cathedral  body,  serving 
God  night  and  day  in  His  Temple,  as  God  should  be  always 
served,  in  this  rich  and  ancient  Church  of  an  empire  which  pro- 
fesses to  be  Christian,  and  which  God  has  so  unspeakably  exalted 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

The  other  ecclesiastical  objects  of  the  town  were  duly  visited, 
and  then  I  took  a  boat  on  the  Dee,  and  was  rowed  toward  Eaton 
Hall,  which  I  finally  reached  on  foot,  after  a  walk  through  the 
surrounding  park.  This  was,  till  very  lately,  regarded  as  the 
finest  possible  specimen  of  modern  Gothic,  in  the  domestic  line, 
and  a  vast  amount  of  Cockney  admiration  has  been  wasted  on  it. 
I  found  it  undergoing  repairs,  which  must  greatly  improve  it ;  but, 
after  all,  it  is  a  meagre  thing,  when  one  has  seen  the  Gothic  of  the 
cathedrals,  or  of  such  a  castle  as  Kenilworth.  I  did  not  see 
much  of  the  interior,  as  visitors  were  necessarily  excluded,  in 
favour  of  the  workmen ;  and  so  after  visiting  the  conservatories, 
and  various  outlying  dependencies  of  this  great  house,  I  left  it, 
not  greatly  overwhelmed  with  what  I  had  seen.  I  was  better 
pleased  with  my  return  voyage,  on  the  Dee,  and  with  the  river- 
view  of  Chester. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


A  Trip  into  Wales. 

From  the  walls  of  Chester,  one  has  a  very  tempting  prospect 
"before  him  in  the  mountains  of  Wales.  To  Wales  I  now  took  my 
war.  and  first  of  all  alighted  at  Holywell  station,  to  visit  the 
wondrous  shrine  and  fountain  of  St.  Winifred.  A  Welsh  lady 
had  advised  me,  by  all  mean?,  to  pay  this  homage  to  her  native 
place,  and  had  sportively  prepared  me  to  see  something  very 
strange,  indeed,  in  the  legendary  well  of  its  tutelar.  The  story 
which  she  told  me  was  this,  in  short :  that  the  well  had  sprung 
from  the  earth,  in  the  olden  time,  just  where  the  head  of  the 
Holy  Winifred,  fair  and  lovely  as  it  was,  touched  the  earth, 
when  her  barbarous  lover,  Caradoc,  smote  it  off,  to  revenge  his 
disappointed  passion.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  found,  in  Holywell,  a 
very  remarkable  pool  and  fountain,  by  which  lay  a  great  number 
of  impotent  folk,  as  formerly  they  did  at  Bethesda,  in  Jewry, 
waiting  for  the  moving  of  the  waters.  But  no — these  waters 
always  move.  The  fountain  gushes  up  with  violence,  and  runs 
with  a  full  tide.  Whether  it  cures  or  not,  I  cannot  say.  It  is 
supposed  to  do  so ;  and  is  used  for  healing  purposes  by  hundreds. 
The  crutches  of  many  of  those  who  have  been  healed,  are  rever- 
ently hung  up  over  the  well ;  and  several  inscriptions  have  been 
cut,  deep  in  the  stone  walls  and  pillars  of  the  Church  which 
rises  above  it,  expressive  of  gratitude  for  cure.  Here  James  the 
Second  came  to  worship,  in  his  dotage,  in  1686.  The  Irish 
Romanists,  and  modern  converts,  consider  it  a  sort  of  duty  to 
uphold  the  miraculous  reputation  of  the  well,  and  are  very  zealous 
in  such  tributes  to  the  legend  and  the  saint.  One  may  certainly 
believe  that  it  is  a  healing  spring,  without  swallowing  the  whole 
story  about  St.  Winifred ;  and  for  one,  I  am  far  from  unwilling 


200  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

to  see  such  springs  resorted  to,  and  used,  in  a  religious  spirit,  as 
the  gift  of  God.  Nay,  if  we  might  but  have  the  truth,  and  not  a 
"  superstitious  vanity,"  I  should  rejoice  to  see  them  connected 
with  the  memory  of  God's  saints;  and,  as  I  washed  in  the 
crystal  waters,  I  allowed  myself  to  believe  that  the  spot  had 
indeed  been  famous  for  some  holy  martyrdom,  which  perverse 
ingenuity  has  distorted  into  the  fable  aforesaid — of  which  I 
have  only  given  the  least  ridiculous  part.  A  fine  and  fragrant 
moss,  which  grows  about  the  well,  and  some  red  spots  in 
the  stone,  have  furnished  additional  material  to  the  fabulists, 
which  tradition  has  not  failed  to  preserve ;  but  the  light  and 
graceful  temple  which  rises  over  it,  with  a  figure  of  the  saint, 
and  which  is  ascribed  to  Margaret,  the  mother  of  Henry  the 
Seventh,  is  its  most  substantial  monument.  It  is  now  a  chapel 
of  the  adjoining  parish  church,  and  I  found  it  filled  with 
plain  benches,  and  used  for  a  Sunday-school  room,  and  for  ser- 
vice in  the  English  tongue. 

But  I  was  en  route  for  the  vale  of  Clwyd,  (pronounced  Clooijd,) 
and  so  landing  at  Rhyl,  I  took  a  Welsh  jaunting-car  to  St. 
Asaph.  At  the  very  entrance  of  the  vale  stands  an  old  historic 
castle,  in  utter  ruins,  but  overhung  with  ivy,  and  nobly  bastioned, 
and  presenting  a  very  venerable  appearance.  It  was  built 
before  the  Norman  invasion,  and  stands  near  the  scene  of  that 
ancient  battle,  still  commemorated  in  the  national  air — Morva 
Rhuddlan — which  is  full  of  traditional  melancholy  and  plaintive 
sweetness.  Near  Rhuddlan  Castle  a  bridge  spans  the  Clwyd, 
adding  a  very  picturesque  feature  to  the  scene ;  and  just  as 
you  descend  to  the  bridge,  you  observe,  on  the  projecting 
wall  of  a  mean  cottage,  the  following  inscription :  "  This 
fragment  is  the  remains  of  the  building  in  ivhich  King  Edward  the 
First  held  his  Parliament,  A.  D.  1283."  Oh!  what  a  romantic 
land  is  Wales.  England  is  fine  prose ;  but  Wales  is  all  poetry. 
Even  here  I  fell  in  love  with  it;  for  Rhuddlan  is  a  truly 
historic  pile.  Almost  its  meanest  memory  is  that  of  the 
progress  of  the  second  Richard,  who  tarried  here  on  his  way 
to  Flint,  to  be  deposed  by  Bolingbroke.  Its  latest  memory, 
however,  is  that  of  the  national  Bardic  Festival,  called  an 
Eisteddfod,  which  was  celebrated  here  in  1850,  with  sad  if  not 
fatal  results.  A  staging  gave  way,  during  the  performance,  and 
several  of  the  fair  and  noble  received  severe  contusions. 

I  enjoyed  a  pleasant  ride  to  St.  Asaph,  which  finally  disclosed 
to  my  view  a   cathedral   of  very  unpretending  dimensions,  on  a 


A  BREAKFAST.  201 

pretty  hill,  with  a  few  houses  grouped  under  its  shadow, 
and  a  sightly  bridge  of  stone.  This  the  City  of  St.  Asaph! 
Even  so — for  it  is  an  ancient  Episcopal  See,  and  therefore  it  is  a 
city,  while  Liverpool  is  but  a  town.  Therefore  do  I  love 
St.  Asaph,  because,  of  all  cities  I  ever  saw,  it  looks  most  like  a 
village.  Indeed,  as  a  village  it  would  be  much  to  my  liking, 
as  still  and  quiet  above  most  villages,  and  sweetly  embosomed 
among  trees,  over  which  the  solid  tower  of  the  ancient  church 
presides  with  a  motherly  air,  and  ticks  a  sleepy  time  from  its 
solemn  clock.  It  was  Saturday  night  when  I  reached  the 
Mostyu  Arms,  and  ordered  my  supper,  and  my  bed-room. 
'  Here  then,'  said  I,  '  I  will  spend  a  Sunday  in  supremest 
loneliness ;  here  I  know  nobody  and  am  known  of  none ;  I 
will  be  a  mystery  to  mine  host  of  the  inn,  who  seems  to 
have  no  other  guest,  dropping  nothing  of  mine  errand  in  these 
parts,  but  going  my  way  on  Monday  morning,  with  an  air  of 
dignified  secrecy,  and  leaving  him  to  imagine,  as  he  may.  what 
could  have  brought  me  to  St.  Asaph.' 

A  quiet  breakfast  at  the  inn  was  served  with  such  noiseless 
neatness  and  despatch,  at  the  appointed  hour,  that  I  grew 
sad  witli  my  bachelor  comfort,  feeling  first,  that  I  ought  not  to 
enjoy  so  much,  except  at  home,  and  then  longing  to  be  there.  It 
was  not  my  hostess's  unimpeachable  fare ;  bread  all  crisp 
without,  and  all  snowy  sponge  within ;  butter  golden  and 
fragrant  ;  prawns,  gathered  freshly  from  the  clean  sands  of 
Rhyl ;  eggs,  that  were  never  cold,  and  that  now  were  hot  to  the 
very  second  of  culinary  time;  and  divers  varieties  and  fruits 
that  feasted  the  imagination  even  more  than  they  gratified  the 
taste ;  it  was  not  this  substantial  and  meritorious  breakfast 
that  made  the  Mostyu  Arms  a  delightful  resting-place ;  but  it 
was  that  entire  order  and  decency  that  invested  all,  and  that 
forbade  the  idea  of  a  hotel,  and  seemed  to  remind  me  that  it 
was  Sunday;  it  was  this  that  first  charmed  me,  and  then 
made  me  lonely,  and  then  positively  sad.  There  is  often  a 
domestic  character  about  such  an  inn,  in  England  and  Wales, 
that  is  positively  religious.  I  remember  one,  in  which  the  inn- 
keeper always  invited  his  guests  to  family  prayers. 

The  cathedral  is  the  very  plainest  of  its  kind,  but  the  choir  is 
not  without  effective  dignity  and  beauty.  I  attended  the 
morning  service,  which  was  that  of  Pentecost,  with  exceeding 
pleasure ;  and  yet  I  observed  with  pain,  that  except  the  children 
of   the   Sunday-school,  there  were   few  present,  who  were  not, 

9* 


202  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

unmistakeably,  of  the  higher  classes,  or  at  least  of  those  which 
are  considered  very  respectable.  Where  were  the  poor !  The 
liveried  servants  of  the  neighbouring  gentry,  in  their  powder  and 
plush,  were  perhaps  of  the  humblest  class  represented;  but,  of 
course,  they  are  not  the  people.  I  was  pleased,  however,  to  see 
several  of  them  kneeling  with  their  masters'  families  at  the 
Holy  Communion. 

After  service,  I  was  lingering  among  the  tombs,  in  the  church- 
yard, and  had  particularly  observed  that  of  the  excellent  Bishop 
Barrow,  when  one  of  the  clergy  approached  me,  and  said, 
"  You  are  a  clergyman,  I'm  sure  ;  I  beg  you'll  come  home  with  me 
to  dinner !"  Never  was  I  so  much  surprised,  in  my  life,  by  such 
a  salutation.  Welsh  hospitality  was  proving  more  than  a  High- 
land Avelcome!  I  expressed  my  scruples  to  accept  an  invitation 
which  was  probably  based  on  the  idea  that  I  was  an  Englishman, 
and  a  clergyman  of  the  National  Church ;  but  only  so  much  the 
more  did  my  new  acquaintance  press  me  to  dine  with  him, 
offering  to  take  me,  after  dinner,  to  a  little  Welsh  parish,  in 
the  mountains,  where  he  promised  that  I  should  hear  the 
service  in  Welsh,  and  also  a  Welsh  sermon,  from  himself. 
So  very  attractive  a  bill  it  was  impossible  to  resist,  and  present- 
ing my  card,  I  promised  to  be  at  the  appointed  place,  at  the 
proper  hour.  But  I  little  knew  how  great  a  pleasure  was  in 
store  for  me. 

I  easily  found  my  way  to  the  house,  which  stood  back  from 
the  road ;  a  modest  mansion,  encircled  with  trees  and  shrubs. 
My  friend  himself  opened  the  door,  uttering  a  Welsh  salutation, 
which  he  interpreted  to  me  by  a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand, 
while  he  pointed  me  to  a  Welsh  inscription  on  the  wall — that 
text  of  the  beloved  disciple,  which  enjoins  him  who  loves  God  to 
love  his  brother  also.  I  was  yet  in  the  first  flush  of  grateful 
excitement,  when  I  was  ushered  into  a  small  drawing-room, 
where  a  lady  advanced  and  gave  me  a  cordial  greeting.  The 
clergyman  introduced  me  to  his  wife,  and  to  another  lady  who 
was  with  her,  and  pointing  to  a  portrait  on  the  wall,  which  I 
immediately  recognized,  said,  ayou  will  perhaps  be  glad  to 
know  that  you  are  in  a  poet's  house,  that  this  is  the  poet's 
likeness,  and  that  my  wife  is  the  poet's  sister."  I  started 
and  said — ';  Can  it  be  that  this  is  Bhyllon?"  I  saw,  in  an 
instant,  that  I  was  so  happy  as  to  have  found  my  way,  in 
this  manner,  to  the  residence  of  the  late  Mrs.  Hemans,  and  to  an 
acquaintance  with  that  sister,  of  twin  genius,  whose  music  is  as 


THE   WELSH    SERVICE.  203 

widely  known  as  some  of  the  most  popular  of  Mrs.  Hermans' 
delightful  lyrics. 

I  was  made  to  feel  at  home,  without  further  preface,  and 
the  dinner-hour  passed  delightfully,  in  conversation  suited  to 
the  day  and  the  services  of  the  morning,  with  many  recogni- 
tions of  the  power  of  our  holy  religion  to  obliterate  differences  of 
nationality  and  of  education,  and  to  bind  entire  strangers  in 
practical  brotherhood.  The  hour  came  to  repair  to  the  moun- 
tain sanctuary,  which  proved  to  be  several  miles  distant,  and 
the  whole  party  of  us  went  together,  in  a  Welsh  vehicle  of 
peculiar  shape,  but  well  suited  to  the  road.  As  we  began  to 
ascend  into  the  hills,  a  fine  view  of  the  vale  of  Clwyd  presented 
itself.  From  the  great  mountain  ranges,  on  the  north  and  west, 
to  the  crowned  crag  on  which  rises  the  Castle  of  Denbigh,  the 
eye  took  a  majestic  sweep,  over  one  of  the  loveliest  valleys  in 
Great  Britain,  and  one  full  of  romance  and  poetry.  At  last  we 
came  to  the  Church,  a  most  primitive  little  structure,  of  ancient 
date,  with  a  mere  bell-gable,  instead  of  a  tower  and  spire,  but  of 
a  most  ecclesiastical  pattern  in  every  respect.  The  villagers  of 
Tremeirchion  were  crowding  the  doorway,  and  on  entering,  I 
found  a  large  assembly  of  the  Welsh  peasantry,  neatly  attired, 
and  exceedingly  intelligent  in  their  appearance.  .V  Welsh 
Prayer-book  was  put  into  my  hand,  which,  being  a  strict 
translation  of  the  English,  I  was  enabled  to  use  very  profitably, 
in  following  the  service.  The  whole  was  novel  and  attractive. 
I  observed  some  old  tombs  and  monuments,  and  was  particularly 
pleased  to  find  the  altar,  the  candlesticks,  and  other  parts  of  the 
Church,  garnished  with  Pentecostal  flowers — alike  fragrant  and 
suggestive  of  festive  emotions,  in  harmony  with  the  blessed  day 
of  the  Holy  Comforter.  But  the  sweet  and  simple  worship  of 
the  villagers  absolutely  enraptured  me.  Their  responses  were 
given  in  earnest,  and  their  chants  were  particularly  touching. 
I  was  especially  pleased  with  the  Gloria  Patri.  which,  as 
perpetually  recurring,  I  soon  caught  up.  and  was  able  to  sing 
with  them,  in  a  language  of  which,  in  the^morning,  I  had  not 
known  a  word.  Even  now  it  lingers  in  my  ear,  with  all  the 
charms  of  that  plaintive  intonation  which  seemed  to  me  charac- 
teristic of  the  Welsh  tongue,  and  which  singularly  comports  with 
its  prestige,  as  the  language  of  an  ancient  and  romantic  people, 
whose  nationality  has  been  never  subdued,  notwithstanding  the 
ages  of  its  absorption  into  that  of  a  stronger  race. 

The  sermon  was  delivered  with    emotion,  apparently   extern- 


204  IMPEESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

poraneously,  and  was  heard  with  fixed  attention  throughout. 
From  the  text,  which  I  picked  out  in  a  Welsh  Testament,  I  was 
able  to  gather  some  of  its  drift,  and  frequently  to  detect  a 
scriptural  quotation.  It  was  evidently  a  Whitsuntide  sermon, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  his  gifts  and  consolations,  were  the  blessed 
theme.  A  sweet  hymn  concluded  the  service ;  and  then,  in  the 
churchyard,  this  excellent  pastor  presented  me  to  several  of 
his  worthy  parishioners.  How  was  I  surprised  when  one  of 
them  asked  me,  in  English,  if  I  had  ever  been  at  Nashotah  !  A 
friend  and  relative  of  his  had  emigrated  to  Wisconsin,  and  had 
there  been  taken  up  by  the  brethren  of  that  Mission,  concerning 
which  he  had  sent  home  many  interesting  accounts.  I  can 
scarcely  do  justice,  with  my  pen,  to  the  thrill  of  feeling  inspired 
by  finding  that  the  blessed  influences  of  Nashotah  were  felt, 
by  brethren  of  a  diverse  tongue,  far  away  over  sea  and  land, 
in  that  lonely  nook  of  the  Welsh  mountains. 

Deep  in  the  wall  of  Tremeirchion  Church  is  set  the  ancient 
tomb  of  an  old  priest  of  Llanerch,  who  was  once  its  pastor.  He 
was  the  wonder  of  his  age  for  wisdom,  and  especially  for  the 
love  with  which,  like  Solomon,  he  spake  of  trees  and  of  plants. 
It  was  he  who  first  translated  the  Te  Deum  into  Welsh,  and 
such  was  his  sanctity  that  Satan  could  gain  no  advantage  over 
him,  except  through  his  love  of  science.  So  then,  as  the  story 
goes,  Satan  promised  to  reveal  to  him  some  mighty  secret  of 
nature,  on  condition  that,  after  death,  he  might  claim  him ;  and 
that,  whether  buried  in  the  Church,  or  without,  there  should  be 
no  release  from  the  bond.  The  wily  clerk  accepted  the  bargain, 
and  became  so  wise  that  all  the  land  confessed  his  astonishing 
attainments,  as  beyond  comparison,  in  their  day ;  but  Satan, 
for  once,  was  outwitted.  The  sage  took  good  care  that  his  body 
should  be  buried  neither  without  nor  within  the  Church ;  and 
accordingly  it  is  shown  to  this  day,  as  part  of  the  wall  itself,  and 
jurists  are  agreed  that  Satan  must  be  nonsuited  whenever  he 
ventures  to  set  up  a  claim  against  the  holy  clerk  of  Llanerch. 

When  I  ventured  to  contrast,  in  conversation  with  my  friend, 
the  delightful  fervour  of  this  service,  with  the  coldness  of  that 
which  I  had  attended  in  the  morning,  at  the  cathedral,  he 
answered,  with  feeling: — "  We  Welshmen  love  our  own  language; 
we  talk  English  in  traffic  and  in  business,  but  Welsh  is  the 
language  of  our  hearts.  The  Church  has  too  generally  neglected 
or  even  outraged  this  principle.  Our  Bishops  have  been  seldom 
able  to  address  us  in  the  speech  of  our  affections ;  the  dissenters 


MRS.   HEMANS.  205 

have  carried  many  captive,  merely  by  employing  the  tongue  of 
the  people,  in  their  exciting  harangue?.  "Where  the  Welsh 
are  served  in  their  own  tongue  by  their  hereditary  Church,  they 
seldom  forsake  her,  and  my  little  parish  is  but  a  small  example  of 
what  might  be  universal,  if  the  Welsh  were  but  considered  wor- 
thv  of  being  conciliated,  by  a  tribute  to  their  hereditary  feelings, 
and  their  unconquerable  nationality."  These  appeared  to  me 
the  counsels  of  truth  and  soberness.  The  Welsh  are  truly 
a  people,  in  spite  of  their  ancient  subjugation,  and  deserve  to 
be  treated  as  such,  all  the  more  for  their  loyalty  to  the  British 
Crown,  and  for  the  remarkable  partiality  which  they  seem  to 
entertain  towards  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whose  dignity  I  discov- 
ered to  be  something  more,  after  all,  than  a  mere  fiction  of 
heraldry. 

Our  drive  home  was  full  of  beautiful  views,  and  after  descend- 
ing into  the  valley,  we  pursued  our  way  through  Llanerch 
park,  a  fine  estate,  with  which  I  was  much  pleased,  although 
the  agreeable  company  into  which  I  had  fallen  might  have 
made  me  satisfied  with  a  scene  far  less  lovely  in  itself.  I  spent 
a  long  evening  at  Rhyllon,  restrained  from  departing  by  their 
kind  importunities,  and  not  unwilling  to  prolong  a  personal 
interview  which  must  necessarily  be  the  last,  as  well  as  the 
first,  of  what  I  could  not  but  recognize  as  an  enduring  friend- 
ship. Conversation  very  naturally  turned  upon  the  departed 
glories  of  Rhyllon,  as  the  nest  of  that  tuneful  nightingale,  who 
filled  up  a  most  brilliant  era  of  British  poesy,  by  the  graceful 
addition  of  a  genuine  female  genius.  I  had  always  admired 
Mrs.  Hemans.  chiefly  because  of  her  truly  feminine  muse; 
because,  in  other  words,  her  poetry  is  such  as  man  can  never 
produce.  Unlike  others  of  her  sisterhood,  she  seems  to  have 
been  unambitious  of  masculine  effort,  content  to  be  her  own 
fair  self,  and  to  give  utterance  to  the  delicious  sentiments, 
the  gushing  affections,  and  the  rapt  enthusiasm  which  belong 
to  the  heart  of  woman.  Delightful  songstress !  it  was  happi- 
ness, indeed,  to  linger  for  a  moment  in  her  charming  abode, 
and  to  gather  from  the  conversation  of  those  who  had  known 
and  loved  her,  such  hints  of  her  life  and  character  as  a  delicate 
fondness  for  her  memory  was  not  unwilling  to  drop  in  con- 
versation, for  the  benefit  of  a  sincere  admirer.  It  was  all 
the  more  valuable,  too,  as  mingling  with  many  personal 
recollections  of  Bishop  Ileber,  whose  connections  with  St. 
Asaph  made  him  very  frequently  a  guest  at  Rhyllon.     It  may 


206  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

be  imagined  that  I  was  loth  to  say  farewell;  but  at  last  I 
tore  myself  away  with  those  pains  of  parting,  which  are  the 
penalty  of  a  traveller's  friendships.  The  clock  of  the  old 
cathedral  tolled  eleven  as  I  passed  under  its  aged  tower  on  my 
return  to  the  inn. 

In  the  morning  I  rose  early,  and  took  a  walk  down  the  vale, 
some  two  or  three  miles,  to  a  secluded  spot,  where  ancient  piety 
had  erected  a  chapel  over  a  fountain,  and  where  it  now  stands 
in  one  of  the  most  picturesque  piles  of  ruin  I  ever  beheld.  This 
was  a  favorite  haunt  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  and  one  to  which  she  has 
devoted  some  sweet  verses.  It  goes,  among  the  English,  by  the 
title  of  "  St.  Mary's  Well,"  but  the  Welsh  call  it  Pfynonver  Capel, 
a  very  musical  and  pleasing  name,  as  they  pronounce  it.  There 
it  stands  in  a  green  mead,  under  the  shade  of  a  tufted  hill, 
enwound  with  ivy  and  covered  with  venerable  moss ;  you  enter 
the  door,  and  in  the  sacred  floor  you  behold  a  pool  of  lucid 
water,  encompassed  with  an  ancient  kerb  of  stone,  which  pre- 
serves all  the  grace  of  outline  of  the  base  of  a  massive  column  in 
a  Gothic  cathedral.  The  old  architect  has  shown,  in  this 
peculiarity  of  his  pool,  a  truly  inventive  genius.  I  am  sure 
the  legends  of  the  sacred  spot  must  have  been  many  and  most 
romantic. 

A  hurried  walk  back  to  St.  Asaph,  concluded  my  sojourn  in 
the  vale  of  Clwyd.  Verily,  "it  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to 
direct  his  steps ;"  my  plans  in  visiting  this  retired  spot  had  all 
been  frustrated ;  but  so  happy  a  disappointment  has  seldom  fallen 
to  my  lot.  The  very  slender  enjoyment  of  puzzling  mine  host, 
with  surmises  as  to  my  mysterious  errand,  had  been  lost  in  one 
of  the  richest  pleasures  of  my  life,  and  I  went  my  way  from  a 
place  which  I  had  sought  a  few  hours  before  as  containing 
nobody  to  whom  I  could  make  myself  known,  feeling  that 
it  would  be  dear  to  me  till  death,  as  the  home  of  beloved 
friends. 

I  continued  my  journey  by  railway  towards  the  Menai  Straits, 
catching  pleasant  views  by  sea  and  land,  especially  those  of 
Abergele  and  Gwyrch  Castle.  At  Conway  I  stopped  for  an  hour 
to  survey  the  interesting  ruins  of  its  castle,  into  which  the  railroad 
has  made  its  way,  piercing  the  ancient  walls,  after  spanning  the 
river  with  a  tubular  bridge,  and  thus  adding  the  utilitarian  won- 
ders of  modern  architecture  to  the  decaying  splendours  of  the 
mediaeval  builder.  The  castle  is  a  mass  of  ruin  within,  but 
retains  all  its  external  form  and  comeliness  of  tower  and  battle- 


CONWAY.  207 

ment.  It  was  built  by  Edward  I.,  and  was  the  scene  of  many 
of  the  gayest  revelries  of  his  court,  during  the  period  in  which  he 
forged  the  chains  of  the  Principality.  I  found  the  descriptions 
of  my  guide-book  so  literally  correct,  with  respect  to  its  present 
condition,  that  I  need  only  transcribe  them.  "  The  walls  on  all 
sides  are  covered  with  a  green  drapery  of  luxuriant  ivy,  and  a 
meadow  of  grass  lies  in  the  open  area  of  its  courts.  The  warden's 
duty  is  supplied  by  a  whole  tribe  of  crows,  whose  solemn  parley 
is  heard  the  instant  that  a  stranger's  foot  approaches,  and  the 
towers  are  all  alive  with  blackbirds,  and  birds  of  all  colours,  whose 
notes  resound  the  livelong  day,  throughout  the  deserted  domain." 
From  the  summit  of  one  of  the  towers  I  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
Conway,  and  of  its  widening  entrance  to  the  sea.  A  fisherman's 
boat,  left  on  the  sands  by  the  receding  tide,  added  to  the  spirit  of 
the  scene,  which  in  every  respect  was  worthy  of  an  artist's  study. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 


Welsh  Scenery  and  Antiquities. 

The  railway  between  Conway  and  Bangor  runs  along  the  sea- 
shore, close  under  the  lee  of  the  bold  and  rocky  promontories, 
that  defy  the  waves,  on  this  imperial  coast.  Often  indeed  we 
found  ourselves  plunged  into  the  black  night  of  the  tunnels  which 
become  necessary,  in  many  places,  from  the  precipitous  nature  of 
these  cliffs,  but,  in  general,  I  found  even  the  distasteful  confusion 
of  a  railway  train  incompetent  to  detract  much  from  the  emo- 
tions of  sublimity  inspired  by  the  passage  along  such  a  shore. 
On  one  side,  the  sea  was  foaming  under  us,  and  on  the  other 
Penmaenmawr  lifted  its  gigantic  bulk  to  the  clouds.  Occasion- 
ally, as  at  Aber,  we  passed  a  beautiful  glen,  descrying  waterfalls 
and  other  picturesque  scenery ;  and  by  keeping  a  good  look-out, 
I  had  a  full  view  of  the  cavern  called  Ogo,  which  opens  to  the 
sea,  high  up  in  a  calcareous  cliff,  with  a  mouth,  singularly  like 
the  arched  entrance  of  a  gothic  minster.  It  is  said  to  have 
afforded  a  retreat,  in  ancient  times,  to  the  invading  army  of  Eng- 
land. At  last,  we  descried  the  baronial  towers  of  Penrhyn 
Castle,  beautifully  situated,  on  the  foundations  of  an  old  Welsh 
palace,  the  fame  of  whose  bold  chiefs  has,  for  ages,  been  the 
theme  of  bardic  eulogy  in  Wales ;  and  soon  after,  we  were  set 
down,  at  Bangor.  It  is  a  city  in  a  vale,  enclosed  by  an  amphi- 
theatre of  hills,  and  opening  to  the  sea,  with  a  fine  view  of  the 
Menai  Straits,  and  of  the  very  striking  water-front  of  Beaumaris, 
on  the  opposite  shore  of  Anglesea. 

I  found  the  cathedral,  though  an  important  feature  in  a  view 
of  the  town,  a  very  humble  specimen  of  its  class ;  and  the  ser- 
vice which  I  attended,  during  a  pouring  rain,  was  indifferently 
performed.     I  retreated  to  the  finely-situated  hotel  on  the  straits, 


MENAI   BRIDGE.  209 

and  near  the  Menai  Bridge,  where,  in  the  company  of  many 
other  disappointed  tourists,  I  was  forced  to  grumble  away  an 
afternoon,  from  which  I  had  expected  no  little  pleasure.  An 
angry  wind  was  chafing  the  surface  of  the  Menai  water,  and  the 
little  steamers,  and  other  vessels,  that  went  furiously  by,  were 
the  only  objects  to  animate  the  otherwise  gloomy  spectacle,  on 
which  I  gazed  listlessly,  from  the  windows  of  the  George  Hotel. 

The  next  morning,  though  with  an  unsettled  sky,  gave  us  bet- 
ter weather,  and  I  went  forth  to  view  the  scenery,  and  to  cross 
the  Menai  Suspension-Bridge,  which,  though  now  eclipsed  by  its 
neighbour,  the  far-famed  Tubular,  is  to  me  much  the  more  inter- 
esting of  the  two,  as  really  a  beautiful  specimen  of  art,  and  not 
unworthy  of  the  surrounding  scenery.  Crossing  this  bridge,  and 
finding  on  the  other  shore  of  Anglesea  a  little  steamer,  with  a 
load  of  Whitsuntide  excursionists,  going  down  to  Caernarvon,  I 
lost  no  time  in  getting  on  board,  and  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of 
passing  under  both  the  chain-bridge  and  the  tube,  and  of  realiz- 
ing, from  that  position,  the  immense  height  at  which  they  over- 
hang the  tides  of  the  Menai.  As  creations  of  genius,  they  are 
indeed  sublime  ;  and  when  a  coach  is  seen  creeping  over  the  one,  in 
bigness  as  it  were  a  fly;  or  when  a  railway  train  thunders  through 
the  other,  and  yet  seems  in  comparison  with  it  a  mere  toy,  as  it 
emerges  and  smokes  along  its  way,  one  gets  an  idea  of  the  immensity 
of  each  conception,  which  invests  mechanic  art  with  something  like 
the  attractive  splendours  of  the  painting  and  the  poem.  In  the 
evening,  as  the  sun  was  near  its  setting,  I  surveyed  the  great  tube 
at  my  leisure,  and  walked  over  its  roof,  while  a  train  was  passing 
under  me.  It  was  surprising  to  observe  its  untrembling  strength, 
and  its  security  at  so  great  a  height,  and  with  a  span  so  vast :  but 
I  was  even  more  delighted  with  the  views  it  afforded  me,  of  the 
glorious  scenery,  mountain  and  marine,  with  which  it  is  encom- 
passed. They  are  singularly  enriched  with  the  charms  of  art  and 
nature.  The  shipping,  the  suspension -bridge,  with  its  arches  and 
festoons ;  the  towns  of  Beaumaris  and  Bangor ;  the  tall  column 
of  the  Marquis  of  Anglesea,  and  many  pleasant  villages  and  seats, 
as  you  look  towards  Caernarvon,  afford  a  pleasing  addition  to  the 
richly  wooded  shores,  the  flowing  waters,  the  indented  line  of 
coast,  the  swelling  hills,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  glorious  suc- 
cession of  peaks  that  stretch  along  the  eastern  background  from 
Snowdon,  to  the  Great  Orme's  Head,  which  rises  like  a  wall  from 
the  sea. 

But  I  must  not  forget  my  excursion  to  Caernarvon,  through 


210  IMPRESSIONS    OF  ENGLAND. 

these  straits,  which  resemble  so  much  the  picturesque  rivers  of 
my  owi  land.  Many  objects  of  interest  enlivened  the  trip  ;  but 
when,  at  last,  the  old  walls  of  Caernarvon  Castle  rose  before  my 
sight,  in  all  their  feudal  grandeur  and  historic  dignity,  I  felt  like 
one  inspired  with  rapture,  though  not  the  less  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  something  awful  and  august.  The  character  of  Edward 
as  a  tyrant  and  a  conqueror,  seemed  to  stand  before  me  in  monu- 
mental gloom  and  massive  solemnity — and  when  I  thought  of 
the  feeble  cries  of  the  first  Prince  of  Wales,  as  he  came  to  light 
in  this  stronghold  of  feudal  tyranny,  and  coupled  them  with  those 
midnight  shrieks,  at  Berkeley,  on  the  Severn,  in  which  his  inglori- 
ous life  was  extinguished,  I  realized  afresh  all  those  creeping 
chills  of  teiTor,  with  which  the  wildest  imagery  of  romance 
affects  the  sensitive  imagination  of  childhood.  There  it  stood, 
magnificently  irregular  in  outline,  frowning  over  the  little  town 
beneath,  like  a  coarse  bully  domineering  over  a  timid  boy.  Its 
towers  are  really  stupendous,  and  the  aspiring  parapets  and  em- 
battled turrets,  that  bristle  up  from  their  grim  summit,  make  a 
strangely  confused,  but  self-consistent  figure,  against  the  moun- 
tain back-ground,  or  the  clear  blue  sky  overhead.  "With  such  a 
fortress  in  full  sight,  it  was  most  thrilling  to  give  its  history  a 
mental  review.  Piled  there  by  a  cruel  conqueror,  to  overawe 
the  "Welsh  people,  six  hundred  years  ago,  it  seems  less  terrible 
with  regard  to  them,  than  with  reference  to  the  story  of  his 
Queen,  and  his  child.  Such  a  nest  for  a  new-made  mother,  and 
her  babe !  In  the  depth  of  winter,  the  stern  husband  sent  Queen 
Eleanor  here,  to  give  birth  to  her  child.  In  one  of  its  most 
gloomy  recesses  the  royal  infant  was  born  ;  and  thus  the  insulting 
victor  was  enabled  to  continue  the  sovereignty  of  Wales,  in  his 
own  family,  while  literally  fulfilling  his  pledge,  to  give  the  Welsh 
a  prince — born  in  their  own  country,  who  could  speak  no  Eng- 
lish, and  whose  character  was  without  fault !  Such  a  sovereign 
they  had  promised  to  accept,  and  to  obey ;  and  hence  the  title 
of  the  eldest  son  of  British  sovereigns  ever  since.  Thus,  what 
is  morally  a  mean  and  knavish  fraud,  is  clothed,  in  historic  narra- 
tive, with  the  glory  of  a  warlike  stratagem,  and  survives  in  im- 
perial heraldry  as  if  there  were  no  truth  in  the  saying  of  the 
poet,  that  the  herald's  art  can  never  "  blazon  evil  deeds,  or  conse- 
crate a  crime." 

I  was  not  altogether  fortunate  in  my  holiday,  for  the  weather 
was  alternating,  continually,  between  shower  and  sunshine,  and 
when  I  was  fairly  on  the  top  of  a  stage-coach,  for  Llanberis,  1 


DOLBARDAN   CASTLE,  211 

found,  to  my  sorrow,  that  shower  was  about  to  predominate  for  a 
time.  However,  to  Llanberis  I  went,  reserving  a  close  inspection 
of  the  castle  to  my  return.  At  intervals,  I  could  get  some  idea 
of  the  loveliness  of  that  charming  lake,  and  of  the  wild  glories 
of  its  surrounding  scenery ;  but  ill-luck  prevailed,  and  Snowdon 
wore  his  cap  of  clouds,  nearly  all  the  time,  and  I  was  forced  to 
retire  at  last,  somewhat  surly  with  disappointment.  I  visited, 
however,  the  ruins  of  Dolbardan  Castle,  the  central  fortress  of  a 
chain  of  similar  mountains,  by  which  the  ancient  clans  of  Wales 
endeavoured  to  secure  these  mountain  passes  against  the  invaders. 
It  stands,  in  picturesque  dignity,  upon  the  peninsula,  which  di- 
vides the  waters  of  Llanberis  into  twin  lakes,  and  is  apparently 
the  guardian  of  both.  Here  some  Welsh  lads,  with  a  donkey, 
were  sheltering  themselves  from  the  rain,  and,  by  dint  of  much 
entreaty,  and  a  very  tempting  appliance  of  money,  I  gained  from 
them  a  Welsh  song,  which  growing  somewhat  animated  as  they 
proceeded,  cheered  up  the  sombre  scene,  and  gave  to  those  anti- 
quated ruins  a  moment's  restoration  of  the  echoes  of  minstrelsy, 
and  of  the  musical  tongue  with  which  they  resounded  of  yore,  in 
peace  and  war,  when  the  figures  of  bards  and  heroes  were  the 
familiar  tenants  of  the  spot.  As  I  returned  to  Caernarvon,  the 
rain  began  to  abate,  and  gradually  the  clouds  withdrew,  to  my 
great  satisfaction.  The  castle  again  rose  before  me,  reviving  the 
impressions  with  which  I  had  tirst  beheld  it,  but  less  stern,  per- 
haps, from  the  land  side,  than  when  beheld  from  the  sea.  I  was 
soon  beneath  its  walls,  which  I  first  surveyed,  in  circuit,  with  in- 
creased astonishment  and  pleasure.  The  materials  for  this  vast 
structure  are  said  to  have  been  furnished,  in  part,  by  the  ruins  of 
Segontium,  the  neighbouring  station  of  the  ancient  Roman  army; 
but  the  feudal  character  now  impressed  on  the  old  stones  is,  to 
me,  far  more  interesting  than  their  primitive  history.  The  eagle- 
tower,  in  which  the  young  Prince  is  said  to  have  been  born,  is 
itself  a  fortress  of  massive  solidity,  and  presents  to  the  waters  a 
front  of  bold  defiance ;  while  on  the  other  side,  now  blocked  up 
and  forlorn  of  aspect,  beneath  a  lofty  arch,  is  the  gate,  by  which 
the  expectant  mother  entered  the  gloomy  hold,  and  which  still 
goes  by  her  name.  The  remains  of  a  moat  and  drawbridge  are 
visible,  and  so  are  the  grooves  in  which  the  iron-toothed  portcullis 
once  rose  and  fell.  I  entered  by  a  gate  which  looks  toward  the 
town,  and  over  which  is  sculptured  a  rude  effigy  of  the  royal 
builder,  deeply  scarred  by  time.  Within,  the  huge  walls  appear 
as  an   empty  shell;  they  rise,   like  those  of  the  great  Roman 


212  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

amphitheatre,  around  an  area  of  desolation.  Here  and  there,  in- 
deed, are  the  remains  of  state  apartments,  and  of  royal  chambers, 
still  marked  by  delicate  architectural  tracery  and  handsome  en- 
richment ;  but  you  tread  on  hillocks  and  grassy  verdure,  which 
swell  above  their  buried  splendours,  and  everywhere  the  ruin 
appears  absolute  and  complete.  By  time-worn  and  dangerous 
stairways  of  stone,  you  wind  up  to  the  summits  of  the  towers, 
and  your  guide  constantly  cautions  you  to  beware  of  slipping,  or 
of  setting  foot  upon  treacherous  places.  To  me,  the  greatest  in- 
terest was  presented  by  the  narrow  corridors,  which  run  between 
the  inner  and  outer  walls  of  the  entire  circuit,  lighted  only  by 
the  loop-holes,  through  which  the  signal  horn  was  once  sounded, 
and  the  arrow  shot  forth,  and  which  open  into  embrasures  that 
were  filled  of  yore  with  armed  men.  Here  is  the  projecting 
battlement,  by  which  they  protected  the  gateway  below.  Its 
floor  is  perforated  for  the  discharge  of  missiles,  and  to  enable  the 
defenders  of  the  castle  to  pour  down  scalding  water,  and  melted 
lead,  upon  the  heads  of  its  assailants.  In  perambulating  these 
gloomy  recesses,  I  gained  distinct  ideas  of  mediaeval  life  and  war- 
fare, from  which  my  knowledge  of  history,  such  as  it  is,  received 
a  vast  augmentation  of  freshness  and  reality. 

Dismissing  my  guide,  I  sat  down  on  the  summit  of  the  eagle- 
tower  and  lost  myself  in  revery.  The  daws,  chattering  amid  the 
battlements,  alone  interrupted  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  moment. 
Before  me  was  Snowdon,  now  disrobed  of  the  clouds  he  had  worn 
through  the  day,  and  lifting  a  bald  crown  of  snow  to  the  skies. 
The  serried  outline  of  his  dependant  mountains  beautifully  varied 
the  scenes  toward  which  they  stretched  away  on  every  side.  I 
turned,  and  there  was  the  broad  glare  of  the  descending  sun  upon 
the  sea:  I  was  looking  towards  my  own  dear  home.  In  the 
midst  of  meditative  pleasures,  I  longed  for  the  companionship  of 
many,  between  whom  and  me  there  rolled  a  thousand  leagues  of 
ocean ;  and,  for  awhile  I  forgot,  in  the  melancholy  of  that  reflec- 
tion, the  romantic  impressions  which  are  peculiar  to  the  spot. 
When  I  recovered  my  thoughts,  it  was  only  to  feel  more  forcibly 
the  solemnity  of  the  short  life,  in  which  we  stand  between  so 
dread  a  past,  and  so  momentous  a  future ;  and  before  I  descended 
from  that  lofty  station,  I  knelt  and  worshipped  Him  who,  alone, 
is  Everlasting. 

The  weather  increased  in  serenity  as  the  day  declined.  I  heard 
the  clatter  of  hoofs,  and  a  coach-horn  sounding  in  the  streets, 
and  hastily  took  my  seat,  for  a  drive  to  Bangor,  relinquishing  a 


CAPEL   CURIG.  213 

projected  tour  through  Beddgelert  and  Tremadoc,  which  I  had 
found  impracticable,  with  reference  to  other  plans.  My  drive  in 
return  was  not  less  agreeable  than  my  sail  in  coming.  Every- 
where the  scene  was  beautiful,  and  I  was  amused  with  the  chatter 
of  a  couple  of  AVelsh  peasant  women,  in  short  petticoats  and 
men's  hats,  who  had  mounted  the  coach-top  and  sat  by  my  side. 

We  had  bright  moonlight  that  evening,  on  the  waters  of  the 
Menai,  and  a  band  amused  us,  with  music,  in  the  grounds  of  the 
hotel.  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  hear,  in  close  connection  with 
the  national  air  of  England,  the  sprightly  strain  of  M  Hail  Colum- 
bia," which,  however  inferior  as  a  musical  composition,  had  a 
strong  power  over  me,  as  I  heard  it  then,  and  I  breathed  a  warm 
aspiration  to  God  for  a  blessing  on  my  native  land. 

We  were  favoured  with  a  glorious  morning,  and  I  took  stage- 
coach, soon  after  breakfast,  for  a  drive  through  North  Wales. 
After  whirling  through  the  suburbs  of  Bangor,  and  traversing 
the  "  Bethesda  slate-quarries,"  we  entered  the  terrific  pass  of 
Nant  Ffrancon.  On  a  reduced  scale,  the  scenery  here  is  quite 
Swiss.  The  rains  had  swelled  the  mountain  torrents,  and  every- 
where they  were  leaping  down  the  steeps,  in  beautiful  threads  of 
silver,  which  terminated  in  fine  cascades.  The  road  wound  along 
the  side  of  a  mountain,  with  a  deep  descent  beneath  ;  and  there 
was  spread  out  a  broad  green  valley,  level  as  a  floor,  with  a  river 
winding  through,  and  the  figure  of  an  angler  stalking  along  its 
bank.  On  the  further  side  of  the  vale  rose  another  mountain, 
abruptly,  to  the  skies.  I  was  reminded  of  Nant  Ffrancon  after- 
wards, in  the  Swiss  Oberland,  after  crossing  the  Brunig  into  the 
Vale  of  Meyringen,  as  I  was  making  my  way  towards  Interlachen. 
These  Welsh  Alps  are  indeed  destitute  of  snowy  tops  and 
descending  glaciers.  Yet  they  are  full  of  sublime  features ;  and 
the  flocks  which  climb  their  sides,  with  fleeces  of  milky  white- 
ness, give  a  pastoral  air  to  the  solitude,  which  subdues  the  other- 
wise repulsive  aspect  of  some  of  their  features. 

It  is  vain  for  me  to  attempt  a  minute  description  of  the  plea- 
sures of  this  day's  drive.  The  scenery  was  richly  varied,  and 
after  seeing  the  finest  scenery  of  Savoy,  and  of  the  Swiss  Can- 
tons, I  still  recall  it  with  satisfaction,  and  long  to  go  through  it 
once  more.  Our  way  lay  along  the  skirts  of  the  dreary  Lake 
Ogwen,  and  then  over  its  desolate  heath  ;  from  which  our  emerg- 
ing into  the  enchanting  Vale  of  Capel  Curig,  was  like  turning 
from  a  page  of  Dante's  Inferno  to  a  passage  in  his  description  of 
Paradise.     Here  majesty  and  loveliness  indeed  combine,  in  the 


214  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

sweet  diversity  of  woods  and  waters,  and  vales  and  mountains,  to 
furnish  an  ideal  of  natural  beauty,  which  might  satisfy  a  poet  or 
a  painter.  Amid  all,  rises  the  glorious  summit  of  old  Snowdon, 
of  which  I  obtained  my  finest  impressions  from  this  spot.  The 
scenery  of  the  river  Swallow,  by  which  our  way  continued,  is 
marvellously  picturesque,  and  its  waterfall  is  admirable,  even  to 
the  eye  of  an  American.  Near  Bettws-y-coed,  the  panorama 
assumed  a  more  pastoral  character,  and  gave  us  a  glimpse  into 
the  Vale  of  Llanrwst ;  and  then,  for  a  long  time,  every  turn 
opened  new  scenes  of  beauty  and  delight.  At  Cerrig-y-Druddion, 
if  the  scenery  was  distasteful  again,  not  so  were  the  trout  from 
the  mountain  streams,  on  which  I  made  a  delicious  repast.  It 
was  from  this  place,  to  which  the  poor  prince  had  made  good  his 
retreat,  that  the  primitive  Caradoc,  with  his  family,  were  carried 
prisoners  to  Rome,  where  he  made  that  famous  speech,  which  is 
the  memorial  of  his  name.  Through  various  scenes  of  interest, 
which  I  might  be  more  willing  to  enumerate,  were  only  their  names 
pronounceable,  I  reached  Corwen,  where  was  the  hold  of  Glen- 
dower,  and  where,  in  the  ancient  Church,  I  visited  the  tomb 
inscribed  Jorwerth,  Vicarius  de  Corvaen  Ora  pro  eo.  At  the  inn 
sat  an  old  blind  Welshman,  playing  the  Welsh  harp,  and  solicit- 
ing charity,  which,  for  Homer's  sake,  no  one  could  refuse. 
Thenceforward  the  scenery  again  increased  in  interest. 

The  Vale  of  Edeyrnion  opened  into  our  view  as  we  continued 
our  journey  along  the  windings  of  the  beautiful  outlet  of  the 
Bala  Lake,  and  from  hence  to  Llangollen,  beauty,  rather  than 
grandeur,  was  characteristic  of  the  scenery.  But  no  every-day 
sort  of  beauty  is  to  be  imagined  when  I  speak  of  this  charming  re 
gion,  at  which  it  was  a  feast  to  look,  even  for  a  moment.  The 
swells  and  slopes  of  the  land ;  the  variety  of  the  foliage ;  the 
graceful  curves  of  the  river-banks;  and  the  outlines  of  the 
mountainous  distance,  with  the  hues  which  various  tillage,  and 
crops,  gave  to  the  meadows  and  the  upland,  were  continual 
sources  of  delight,  in  which  there  was  no  monotony,  and  no  sur- 
feit. Nothing  was  wanting,  but  only  the  kindling  eye  of  some 
enraptured  friend  to  meet  my  own,  and  a  voice  to  say  with  mine, 
"  This  indeed  is  a  paradise !"  Such  would  be  the  exclamation 
of  any  admirer  of  natural  scenery,  at  the  point  where  the  ruin- 
ous pile  of  the  Abbey  of  Vaile  Crucis  lifts  into  view  the  arch 
and  tracery  of  its  great  East  window,  amid  the  harmonious 
boughs  and  verdure  of  gigantic  trees.  It  is  a  favourite  view 
with  painters,  and  has  become  familiar  from  the  efforts  of  both 


PL  AS  NEWYDD.  215 

pencil  and  burin.  Scarcely  less  so  is  the  conical  hill,  which 
overhangs  Llangollen,  and  on  the  summit  of  which  some  remnants 
of  wall  that  serve  to  give  a  very  picturesque  completeness  to  its 
outline,  retain  the  name  of  Castell  Dinas  Bran,  with  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  primeval  British  work.  At  Llangollen,  a  handsome 
bridge,  which  spans  the  river  Dee,  blends  with  the  prospect  of 
the  town  in  pleasing  proportion.  I  climbed  a  little  eminence, 
and  broke  through  a  sort  of  copse,  into  the  pleasant  grounds  of 
Plas  Newydd.  the  famous  retreat  of  two  eccentric  ladies,  who, 
not  quite  a  hundred  years  ago,  while  Llangollen  was  yet  unsung 
and  unknown,  became  recluses  of  the  Yale,  and  lived  here  in 
philosophical  contempt  of  the  world,  and  in  ardent  communion 
with  nature.  They  both  rest  in  the  parish  churchyard,  where 
one  stone  records  their  several  dates,  and  those  of  an  humble  girl, 
who  was  long  their  faithful  servant.  As  they  were  persons  who 
had  figured  in  the  gay  world,  their  story  has  become  a  sort  of 
local  tradition,  which  is  always  repeated  with  respect ;  and  por- 
traits of  Miss  Ponsonby  and  Lady  Eleanor  Butler,  in  full  Welsh 
costume,  are  sold  in  the  shops,  and  hung  up  at  the  inn.  I  could 
not  greatly  admire  their  cottage  :  but  it  was,  no  doubt,  quite  snug, 
and  pretty  enough  for  two  old  ladies  that  were  of  a  mind  to  be 
philosophers. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 


The  Wye  and  the  Severn — Bristol  and  Wells. 

The  next  day  found  me  again  ascending  the  Malvern  hills,  on 
a  coach-top,  the  guard  playing  the  merriest  notes,  upon  his  horn, 
as  we  rapidly  trotted  through  the  town.  After  another  view  of 
the  vale  of  Gloucester,  we  turned  into  Herefordshire,  and  de- 
scended into  the  valley  that  spreads  from  the  western  slope  of 
the  Malverns.  We  had  fine  views  of  Edensor,  the  estate  of 
Lord  Somers,  and  of  a  monumental  column,  upon  the  crown  of  a 
hill.  I  Avas  glad,  too,  to  see  on  the  roadside,  marking  some 
parochial  boundary,  a  stone  cross,  such  as  is  frequent  on  the  Con- 
tinent, and  might,  without  any  evil,  be  a  familiar  object  in  any 
Christian  country.  As  we  approached  Ledbury,  we  met  a  band 
of  gipsies  in  their  proverbial  rags  and  wretchedness,  skulking 
along  the  road,  and  exhibiting  very  few  of  those  bewitching 
peculiarities  of  appearance  with  which  painters  and  romancers 
are  fond  of  investing  them.  I  had  never  met  them  before,  and 
was  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  stop  and  talk  with  them.  An  im- 
pression of  awe  haunted  me  for  some  time  as  I  meditated  upon 
their  mysterious  barbarism,  and  tried  to  recall  the  glimpse  of 
their  weird  features,  which  I  had  caught  as  they  passed  by.  1 
never  saw  any  of  their  kind,  on  any  other  occasion  afterwards, 
and  think  they  must  be  growing  scarce,  even  in  England. 

At  Ledbury  I  was  particularly  struck  with  an  outside  view  of 
the  parish  Church,  which  is  but  one  of  a  thousand  churches  in 
England  which  of  themselves  are  enough  to  reward  a  traveller  for 
journeying  through  it.  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  justly  awarded  to 
them  the  credit  of  being  the  most  beautiful  temples  in  the  world, 
and  the  most  becoming  for  their  holy  purposes.  Our  next  stage 
brought  us  to  Ross  so  famous  for  the  memory  of  John  Kyrle  and  his 


THE    MAN    OF   ROSS.  217 

beneficent  deeds.  Its  "heaven-directed  spire"  surmounts  the  hill, 
on  which  the  town  is  built ;  and  every  where,  in  Ross,  the  traces 
of  his  good  works,  as  well  as  many  of  the  works  themselves, 
survive  to  consecrate  his  name.  The  house  in  which  he  dwelt  is 
adorned  with  a  medallion  portrait  of  "the  man  of  Ross,"  sunk  in 
the  wall,  and  visible  to  every  passenger.  He  was  indeed  all 
that  the  poet  has  made  him  in  descriptive  verse;  and  he  was 
something  more,  for  he  was  a  zealous  Churchman,  and  a  faithful 
attendant  upon  the  daily  service.  I  made  my  way  to  the  Church, 
and  was  pleased  to  find  its  churchyard  cross  entire,  and  a  cross 
upon  its  gable.  The  interior,  though  very  old  fashioned,  was 
adorned  with  flowers,  in  honour  of  Pentecost,  and  its  monuments 
are  many  and  curious.  Among  them  was  one  of  those  altar- 
tombs,  on  which  lie  at  full  length  a  knight  and  his  sweet  dame, 
the  latter  with  her  delicate  hand  held  in  his  rough  grasp,  as  if  their 
union  were  inseparable  by  death  itself.  I  was  deeply  touched 
by  such  a  memorial  of  love,  which  we  must  believe  to  have  been 
sincere,  and  to  which  fancy  attributes  all  that  is  constant  on  the 
part  of  the  lady,  and  all  that  is  chivalrous  on  the  part  of  her 
lord.  But  where  is  the  monument  of  Kyrle  ?  There  is  a  bust 
and  an  inscription,  but  his  monument,  like  Christopher  Wren's,  is 
the  Church  itself;  for  he  built  its  spire,  and  something  more 
beside.  There  is  a  story,  too,  that  when  the  bells  were  cast,  he 
was  present,  and  threw  into  the  melting  metal  a  silver  tankard, 
from  which  he  and  the  workmen  had  just  drunk  to  the  king's 
health.  As  I  was  passing  round,  the  sexton  said  to  me,  "  you 
shall  now  see  something  that  you  never  saw  before,"  and  he 
pointed  out  a  couple  of  elm  trees,  growing  in  the  Church,  and 
reaching  to  the  roof.  What  is  the  more  remarkable,  they  are 
growing  in  the  pew  where  the  Man  of  Ross  was  accustomed  to 
worship,  as  if  to  testify  the  fidelity  of  God  to  the  promise — "  He 
shall  be  like  a  tree,  planted  by  the  water-side,  his  leaf  also  shall 
not  wither."  One  would  almost  believe  that  they  must  have 
been  planted  on  purpose,  but  the  truth  is  rather  the  reverse. 
They  are  in  fact  the  fruit  of  Kyrle's  own  planting;  for  he  set  a 
row  of  elms  in  the  churchyard,  which  were  cut  down  by  a  churl- 
ish vicar,  but  from  which  these  shoots  have  sprung  up  in  the 
house  of  God,  as  it  were  in  silent  remonstrance.  It  is  hard  not 
to  see  something  providential  in  the  coincidence,  by  which,  what 
would  be  a  curiosity  anywhere,  is  thus  connected  with  the  blessed 
example  of  one  of  the  most  benevolent  and  virtuous  of  mankind. 
The  trees  screen  one  of  the  windows,  and  appear  to  thrive  in  the 

10 


218  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

climate  of  the  sanctuary,  their  leaves  putting  forth  earlier,  and 
falling  later  than  those  of  the  trees  in  the  churchyard. 

A  fair  Avas  going  on  in  the  town,  and  the  streets  were  filled 
with  the  peasantry.  Everywhere  pedlars  were  setting  forth  the 
merits  of  their  wares,  and  among  them  was  a  fellow  bawling — 
"Here's  the  last  dying  speech  and  confession,  &c." — as  he  ex- 
hibited the  doleful  print  of  a  gallows  and  its  dangling  victim. 
Such  incidents  are  not  rarely  met  in  the  narratives  of  a  certain 
class  of  novelists,  and  I  have  certainly  read,  somewhere,  of  just 
such  a  market-day  as  I  encountered  at  Ross.  I  walked  slowly 
down  the  hill  into  the  valley  of  the  Wye,  turning  constantly  to 
observe  the  fine  situation  of  the  town,  till  the  coach  overtook 
me.  The  country  here  is  rich  but  simply  pretty,  and  as  yet  it 
revealed  none  of  the  glories  for  which  the  Wye  is  celebrated. 
Goodrich  Court,  a  modern  mansion,  is  a  fine  object,  however, 
and  the  remains  of  Goodrich  Castle  are  an  imposing  feature  in 
the  scene;  and  all  the  more  so  for  its  association  with  the 
cavaliers,  from  whom  it  was  finally  taken  by  Cromwell,  and 
reduced  to  ruins.  As  you  enter  Monmouthshire,  a  glorious 
view  begins  to  open,  and  from  about  this  point  the  scenery  of  the 
river  increases  in  wildness  and  grandeur.  I  was,  at  first,  at  a 
loss  to  know  why  Wordsworth  should  have  called  the  Wye  sylvan, 
for  such  was  far  from  being  its  character,  in  Herefordshire ;  but 
now  the  entire  appropriateness  of  the  epithet  was  disclosed,  and 
yet  I  am  well  aware  that  I  lost  many  of  the  finest  features  of 
the  stream  by  not  descending  it  in  a  boat.  With  Monmouth 
itself,  I  was  somewhat  disappointed,  its  Church  having  suffered 
many  things  of  many  churchwardens,  and  the  remains  of  the 
priory,  where  Henry  the  Fifth  was  born,  having  become  in- 
corporated with  the  modern  walls  of  a  boarding-school.  I  left 
Monmouth  with  gratitude  to  Fluellyn  for  his  idea  of  its  wondrous 
resemblance  to  Macedon,  which  I  should  not  have  imagined,  had 
he  not  helped  the  world  to  it.  The  glories  of  the  scenery  round 
St.  Briavel's  and  near  the  tiny  little  Church  at  Llandogo,  should 
have  had  the  further  benefit  of  his  minute  and  luminous  descrip- 
tive powers,  as  I  can  liken  it  to  nothing  else  in  the  world  but 
itself,  for  its  combination  of  simply  rural  features,  with  those 
which  are  highly  picturesque.  An  American  is  struck  with  the 
charm  imparted  to  such  scenery,  by  a  pretty  church  or  a  neat 
and  secluded  hamlet,  quite  as  much  as  he  is  impressed  by  the 
scenery  itself;  and  I  was  often  led  to  think  what  the  valley  of  the 
Mohawk  might  be,  had  it  the  advantage  of  that  still  retirement, 


TIDEXHAM   VICARAGE.  219 

and  of  those  Arcadian  grove?,  which  impart  a  peculiar  effect  to 
the  sterner  beauties  of  the  Wye.  At  Tintern  Parva  we  were 
shown  the  ancestral  habitation  of  Fielding,  and  passed  a  new 
church  which  was  well  worthy  of  note.  But  the  neighbourhood 
of  Tintern  Abbey  eclipsed  every  other  thought,  and  I  strained 
my  sight  for  the  earliest  possible  glimpse  of  the  delightful  vision. 
A  storm  which  had  been  threatening,  broke  upon  us,  unfortunate- 
ly, at  the  critical  point,  and  I  first  beheld  that  magnificent  ruin  in 
circumstances  which  increased  its  desolation.  In  spite  of  the 
rain,  however.  I  embraced  an  opportunity  of  entering  its  walls 
and  surveying  it  for  a  few  moments,  amid  the  wild  confusion  of 
the  elements.  The  rain  dashing  through  its  rich  but  broken 
tracery,  and  the  wind  tossing  the  gorgeous  drapery  of  its  mant- 
ling ivy,  with  the  melancholy  sighs  it  gave  amid  the  columns,  and 
along  the  aisles,  deepened  the  solemn  impression  of  the  spot,  and 
gave  a  heightened  interest  to  the  thoughts  of  its  former  sacred  uses, 
when  it  resounded  with  the  chant  of  priests  and  the  swells  of 
music  from  the  organ.  As  I  purposed  a  more  leisurely  visit  in 
fairer  weather,  I  was  willing  to  have  seen  it  thus  amid  storm  and 
tempest.  I  resumed  my  journey  to  Chepstow;  and  as  the  storm 
soon  abated,  and  was  succeeded  by  Bunshine,  I  had  many  fine 
views  of  the  windings  of  the  riven*,  some  of  which  are  very  bold, 
sweeping,  amid  precipitous  banks,  crowned  with  the  richest 
foliage  and  verdure.  Chepstow  itself  has  many  beauties,  as  seen 
from  the  Wye,  and  after  slightly  surveying  the  town  and  castle, 
I  crossed  the  iron  bridge,  and  drove  to  Tidenham,  where  a  kind 
welcome  awaited  me  at  the  vicarage,  from  one  with  whom  I  had 
corresponded  long  before  I  left  America.  I  was  sorry,  how- 
ever, to  find  myself  a  source  of  disappointment  to  the  children 
of  my  kind  entertainers,  who  had  been  unable  to  divest  them- 
selves, notwithstanding  the  benevolent  dissuasions  of  their  parents, 
of  the  romantic  idea  that  the  American  visitor  would  present 
himself  in  aboriginal  costume,  and  contribute  to  their  amusement 
by  exhibiting  his  red  visage,  and  lending  them  his  bow  and  arrows. 
Their  father  is  now  a  Missionary  Bishop,  in  Africa. 

This  vicarage  is  of  modern  erection,  but  in  very  good  ecclesi- 
astical style,  and  has  a  pretty  garden,  in  which  I  saw  my  amiable 
friend  the  vicar  taking  the  air,  when  I  rose  in  the  morning.  I 
was  glad  that  so  pleasant  an  abode  had  fallen  to  the  lot  of  so  good 
a  man.  •  After  breakfast,  while  he  visited  his  poor  and  sick,  I 
went  on  a  little  pony,  with  a  servant  at  my  side,  to  Cockshoot 
Hill,  which  looks  down  upon  the  Wye  nearly  opposite  the  Wind- 


220  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

cliff.  Tidenhara  itself  stands  on  a  narrow  peninsula,  with  the 
Wye  on  one  side,  and  the  broad  Severn  on  the  other,  and  just 
below  Cockshoot  Hill  this  peninsula  forces  the  river  Wye  to 
make  an  extraordinary  bend  beneath  its  precipitous  banks,  on 
which  stands  the  pretty  hamlet  of  Llancaut.  The  view,  at  this 
point,  is  therefore  peculiarly  fine,  and  affords,  in  one  spot  called 
"  Double-view,"  the  unusual  spectacle  of  both  rivers — the  Wye, 
with  its  sylvan  charms  on  one  hand,  and  the  expanse  of  the 
Severn,  with  its  ships  and  steamers,  on  the  other.  I  was  best 
pleased  with  the  Wye,  the  Wind  cliff,  the  projecting  rocks  called 
the  Twelve  Apostles,  and  the  entire  scene  on  that  side,  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  stretch,  above  and  below.  The  farms  and  fruit-trees 
of  the  peninsula  were  also  pleasing  in  their  way,  and  the  more 
so,  because  it  was  now  the  season  of  blossoms,  and  every  breeze 
was  fragrant.  My  return  was  enlivened  by  views  of  the  Severn, 
which  were  often  much  heightened  in  effect  by  the  turns  of  the 
road,  and  the  openings  amid  thick  trees,  through  which  I  descried 
them ;  and  I  was  gratified  to  be  joined  by  a  labouring  man,  who 
insisted  on  walking  with  us,  and  pointing  out  favourite  prospects, 
apparently  not  so  much  in  hopes  of  a  fee,  as  to  testify  his  regard 
for  a  guest  of  the  vicar,  of  whom  he  spoke  in  unbounded  terms 
of  respect,  as  the  blessing  of  the  country  round.  I  found  the 
Church  opened,  and  service  going  on :  and  when  it  was  over,  was 
informed  by  the  vicar  himself  of  the  various  merits  of  the  sacred 
place  as  an  architectural  specimen.  The  font  was  an  ancient 
Norman  one,  of  lead,  and  is  regarded  as  curious.  So  are  the 
windows,  which  exhibit  a  semi-flamboyant  tracery,  by  no  means 
common.  A  gradual  restoration  is  going  on,  at  the  expense  of 
the  vicar  and  his  personal  friends;  but  I  was  amused  by  the 
white-washed  tower,  which  remains  thus  disfigured,  while  the  rest 
of  the  Church  has  been  reduced  to  its  natural  color.  It  seems 
that  this  white  tower  has  long  been  a  landmark  of  the  Severn, 
and  serves  a  useful  purpose,  in  the  piloting  of  vessels.  With  an 
interference  which  would  strike  us  Americans  as  very  arbitrary, 
the  Government,  therefore,  forbade  that  the  tower  of  Tidenham 
Church  should  be  made  to  look  any  less  like  a  whited  sepulchre ; 
and  so  it  stands,  as  a  pillar  of  salt,  to  this  day. 

The  rest  of  the  day  was  devoted  to  an  excursion  to  Tintern, 
to  which  the  ladies  contributed  their  agreeable  society.  The 
party  proved  a  very  cheerful  one,  and  we  encountered '  scarcely 
any  fatigue  of  which  our  fairer  associates  did  not  bear  their  full 
share.     In  surveying  the  remains  of  Chepstow  castle,  only,  were 


TDsTERX  ABBEY.  221 

we  without  their  company.  I  found  it  a  noble  ruin,  even  after 
my  visit  to  Caernarvon.  It  was  reduced  to  ruin  by  Cromwell, 
after  a  desperate  fight,  but  one  of  its  towers  was  long  after- 
wards— for  twenty  years — the  prison  of  Henry  Marten,  the  re- 
gicide. It  must  once  have  been  a  splendid  hold  of  feudalism, 
and  its  halls  and  windows  still  retain  many  traces  of  the  Saxon 
and  Norman  richness  of  its  original  Ifeanty. 

AVe  climbed  the  Windcliff,  and  thence  surveyed  the  combined 
glories  of  land,  and  sea,  and  of  inland  stream,  which  are  its  pecu- 
liar charm.  Where  else  can  be  seen  such  a  prospect :  such  inland 
river  scenery,  blended  with  the  view  of  a  broad  arm  of  ocean, 
side  by  side,  and  apparently  not  united?  It  would  be  vain  for 
me  to  attempt  description,  but  I  found  it  all  I  could  ask;  and  on 
that  breezy  height  recalled  to  mind  those  incomparable  lines  of 
Wordsworth,  composed  upon  the  spot  or  near  it,  in  which  he 
exhorts  the  lover  of  Nature  to  store  up  such  scenes  in  memory, 
and  thus  make  u  the  mind  a  mansion  for  all  lovely  fo]  I 
There  are  caves  below,  through  which  one  of  my  female  friends 
led  me  like  a  Sybil ;  and  then  I  went  under  her  kind  escort 
through  a  wild  American-like  wood,  to  rejoin  our  carriage.  Two 
miles  more  of  delightful  scenery,  and  I  stood  again  in  Tintern 
Abbey,  and  wandered  through  its  holy  aisles,  and  climbed  to  its 
venerable  summit.  Here,  over  the  lofty  arches  of  the  transept.  I 
walked,  as  in  a  path  through  a  wood,  the  shrubbery  growing 
wildly  on  both  sides,  as  on  the  brow  of  a  natural  cliff.  White 
roses  flourish  there  in  abundance;  and  it  i*  only  at  intervals  that 
you  can  get  a  glimpse  of  the  Abbey-floor  beneath.  Around  you 
is  a  beautiful  prospect  of  the  river,  and  of  an  amphitheatre  of 
hills;  and  when  you  stand  in  the  aisles  below,  and  view  these 
same  hill<  through  the  broken  windows,  you  feel  that  they  should 
never  have  been  glazed,  except  with  transparent  glass.  On  the 
whole,  when  the  beauty  of  its  situation  is  fully  taken  into  con- 
sideration, in  addition  to  the  original  graces  of  its  architecture, — 
its  graceful  pillars,  its  aerial  arches,  its  gorgeous  windows. — and 
when  we  observe  the  fond  effect  with  which  nature  has  clothed 
the  pile  in  verdure,  as  if  resuming  her  power  with  tenderness, 
and  striving  to  repair  the  decays  of  art,  with  her  own  triumphant 
creations;  when  all  these,  and  other  attractions  which  cannot  be 
enumerated  in  description,  are  united  in  the  estimate,  I  cannot 
but  give  to  Tintern  Abbey  the  credit  of  being  the  fairest  sight,  of 
its  kind,  which  ever  filled  my  vision.  I  have  since  seen  many 
similar  objects,   combining  architectural   beauties  with  those  of 


222  IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

nature,  but  were  I  allowed  to  choose  one  more  glimpse  of  such  a 
picture,  among  all,  I  think  I  should  say  to  the  enchanter — "let 
me  have  another  look  at  Tintern." 

Crossing  the  broad  mouth  of  the  Severn,  in  a  little  steamer, 
we  entered  the  Avon,  of  a  fine  afternoon,  just  as  a  fleet  of  similar 
steamers,  taking  the  tide  at  flood,  were  hurrying  out  to  sea.  It 
was  a  most  animating  sight^as  one  after  another  chased  by — this 
for  London,  that  for  Dublin,  another  for  Glasgow,  and  so  on;  all 
flaunting  the  red  cross  of  St.  George,  and  displaying  a  full  com- 
pany on  deck.  I  was  agreeably  surprised  by  the  beauty  of  this 
river,  which  is  varied  by  woods  and  cliffs,  and  many  striking 
objects,  among  which  a  little  ruinous  chapel,  upon  a  verdant 
peninsula,  particularly  struck  me,  and  the  more  so,  as  having 
been  formerly  used  by  fishermen,  before  going  upon  their  voyages 
in  the  channel,  as  a  place  of  prayer  for  protection  and  success. 
But  this  river  has  an  historical  claim  upon  the  affectionate  regard 
of  America,  as  having  sent  forth  two  expeditions  to  our  shores, 
of  the  greatest  consequence  to  our  whole  continent.  Upon  these 
waters  crept  forth  to  sea,  in  1497,  the  little  "  Matthew,"  on 
whose  deck  stood  Sebastian  Cabot,  "  uncovering  his  fine  Venetian 
head"  to  take  a  last  farewell  of  his  native  city,  as  he  boldly 
stood  out  to  the  ocean  in  search  of  the  New  World.  Upon  that 
expedition  depended  the  discovery  of  the  mainland  of  America, 
and  the  occupation  of  the  northern  half  by  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 
To  this  glorious  reminiscence  has  been  added  the  fine  contrast 
presented  by  the  "  Great  Western,"  as  she  launched  forth,  in  this 
same  river,  only  a  few  years  ago,  in  her  majestic  strength,  to 
inaugurate  a  new  era  in  the  art  of  navigation,  and  to  unite  the 
Old  World  and  the  New  by  bonds  of  intercommunication,  which 
imagination  itself  had  never  ventured  to  portray  in  their  present 
stage  of  wonderful  development.  "  Upon  no  waters,"  says  a 
popular  writer,  "  save  those  of  the  winding  Avon,  have  two  such 
splendid  adventures  as  these  been  enterprized." 

Passing  under  the  heights  of  Clifton,  and  landing  in  Cumber- 
land basin,  I  climbed  the  steep,  took  my  lodgings  at  Clifton,  and 
then  went  on  foot  into  Bristol,  over  Brandon-hill,  enjoying  the 
magnificent  panorama  which  unfolds  on  every  side,  and  compre- 
hends the  finest  features  of  town  and  country,  of  water  and  of 
land.  My  first  thought  was  the  famous  Church  of  St.  Mary 
Eedcliftc,  and  thither  I  took  my  way.  The  poetry  of  Chatterton 
was  the  delight  of  my  boyhood,  and  this  Church  I  had  long  de- 
sired to  see.     I  found  it  undergoing  restoration,  but  not  the  less 


CHATTERTON.  223 

open  to  inspection.  It  is  indeed  a  masterpiece  of  architecture ;  its 
clustered  pillars,  and  the  fan-like  spread  of  its  vaulting,  with  its 
fourfold  aisles,  and  rich  quatrefoil  windows,  affording  the  keenest 
satisfaction  to  the  artist,  and  affecting  every  man  of  taste  with 
overwhelming  emotions  of  religion,  which  may  well  be  made 
salutary  to  the  soul.  Here  are  some  pictures  by  Hogarth,  of  a 
character  superior  to  his  general  efforts ;  one  of  which,  represent- 
ing t;  the  Ascension  of  our  Lord,"  shows  him  to  have  possessed 
fine  sensibilities,  and  a  delicate  appreciation  of  the  more  poetical 
provinces  of  his  art.  The  monument  of  "  Master  Canynge,"  the 
Mayor,  who  figures  so  richly  in  the  ';Bristowe  tragedy/'  attracted 
my  profound  attention,  as  did  also  several  others  less  mentiona- 
ble,  though  very  interesting.  Of  Chatterton  himself,  no  monu- 
ment is  to  be  seen,  save  the  old  muniment-room,  and  the  chests, 
from  which  he  fished  his  bold  idea.  The  monument,  which  was 
erected  a  few  years  since  to  his  memory,  has  for  some  reason  been 
removed,  and  now  lies  dishonoured  in  the  crypt.  It  is  impossible 
to  think  of  that  marvellous  boy  without  pity,  in  spite  of  his  moral 
delinquencies;  and  I  can  scarcely  read  the  ballad  of  Charles 
Bawdin  without  tears,  excited  as  much  by  the  fate  of  its  author, 
as  of  its  hero.  His  moral  perceptions  must  have  been  of  a  fine 
cast,  or  he  never  could  have  conceived  that  poem;  and  who 
would  not  choose  to  believe  that  had  he  encountered  mercy  and 
loving-kindness  from  those  who  ought  to  have  befriended  him,  his 
splendid  genius  might  have  been  made  a  rich  blessing  to  himself 
and  to  the  world ! 

As  the  solemn  twilight  was  coming  on.  I  visited  the  cathedral. 
I  had  not  promised  myself  much  from  such  a  visit,  for  'tis  a  muti- 
lated pile,  of  which  the  entire  nave  is  lacking.  Yet,  whether 
it  was  the  effect  of  the  dim  and  dying  daylight,  or  whether  the 
architecture  and  the  sepulchral  charms  of  the  holy  place  over- 
powered me,  I  left  it  with  the  profoundest  impressions  of  awe 
and  tender  emotion.  The  old  Norman  Chapter-house  is  an  archi- 
tectural gem,  with  its  intersecting  arcades,  its  rich  diapering, 
an  1  nail-head  ornaments,  its  twisted  mouldings,  and  spiral 
columns,  and  the  zig-zag  groinings  of  its  roof.  In  the  vestry  I 
was  shown  a  curious  Saxon  carving  of  Christ  saving  a  soul.  My 
attention  was  also  directed,  by  the  sub-sacrist  who  attended  me, 
to  the  ruins  of  the  Bishop's  palace,  which  fell  under  the  violence 
of  the  mob,  in  1831,  when  good  Bishop  Gray  so  beautifully 
distinguished  himself  and  his  Order,  by  exhibitmg  an  apostolic 
harmony  of  meekness  and  resolution.     But  it  was  in  walking  the 


224  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

aisles  of  the  cathedral  itself,  under  the  deepening  shadows  of  the 
evening,  that  I  experienced  the  full  effects  which  such  a  place 
should  inspire.  From  the  old  and  decaying  monuments  of  knights 
and  their  dames,  I  passed  with  elevated  feeling  to  the  modern 
achievements  of  Bacon  and  of  Chantry.  A  kneeling  female 
figure,  reflecting  the  faint  light  from  its  pale  features  and  white 
drapery,  and  standing  out  of  the  darkness,  like  a  pure  soul  emerg- 
ing from  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  gave  me  a  sensation 
of  unspeakable  reverence.  Hard  by,  a  chequered  day-beam 
played  on  the  fine  outline  of  a  bust  of  Robert  Southey,  and  this 
apparition  also  affected  me ;  but  when  I  came  to  the  little  tablet 
which  marks  the  grave  of  Mrs.  Mason,  and  spelt  out,  word  by 
word,  the  incomparable  tribute  of  conjugal  love  which  it  bears, 
I  was  overwhelmed;  and  as  I  read  (I  am  not  ashamed  to  own  it) 
my  tears  dropped  upon  the  marble  floor.  There  was  barely  day- 
light enough  for  the  effort,  but  I  had  known  the  poem  from  my 
earliest  childhood,  and  possibly  to  this  fact  I  must  attribute  its 
overpowering  effect  upon  my  feelings.  It  is  to  be  condemned 
perhaps  as  an  epitaph;  but  who  can  think  of  criticism  when 
borne  along  on  such  a  tide  of  heavenly  affection  and  triumphant 
faith  ?  I  trembled  to  think  I  was  standing  upon  the  relics  of  so 
much  loveliness  and  purity. 

"  Take,  holy  earth,  all  that  my  soul  holds  dear !" 

She  must  have  been  an  angel,  to  have  inspired  so  much  feeling 
as  agony  has  compressed  into  that  one  line !  and  then,  what  an 
image  of  more  than  mortal  beauty  rises  before  us  as  we  read — 

"  Speak,  dead  Maria  !  breathe  a  strain  divine, 
Even  from  the  grave  thou  shalt  have  power  to  charm." 

And  did  ever  love  paint  such  a  portrait,  in  a  few  touches  of 
passionate  apostrophe,  as  in  those  in  which  the  heart  of  her  hus- 
band speaks  on  1 

"Bid  them  be  chaste,  be  innocent,  like  thee ; 

Bid  them  in  duty's  sphere  as  meekly  move  ! 
And,  if  as  fair,  from  vanity  as  free  ; 

As  firm  in  friendship,  and  as  fond  in  love  !" 

Kever  was  the  glory  of  true  female  character  so  enshrined  in 
language  before ;  but  this  is  not  all !  The  ideal  of  the  Christian 
woman  is  brought  out  in  its  completeness  in  what  follows : — 

"  Tell  them — though  'tis  an  awful  thing  to  die, 
'Twas  even  to  theeV 


A  CHAEITABLE   MAN.  225 

Here  is  the  tender  form,  and  timid  step,  with  all  the  heroism  of 
the  female  saint,  descending  into  the  dark  valley :  and  at  the 
same  time  here  is  the  transcendent  tribute — 

'Twas  even  to  thec  ! 

And  now  comes  triumphant  faith : — 

Yet  that  dread  path  once  trod, 


Heaven  lifts  its  everlasting  portals  high, 

And  bids  the  pure  in  heart  behold  their  God." 

I  am  probably  failing  in  my  desire  to  carry  my  reader  along  with 
me  in  my  own  conception  of  the  exceeding  merit  of  these  verses, 
as  embodying  some  of  the  sublimest,  and  some  of  the  tenderest 
affections  of  the  regenerate  heart,  with  the  smallest  possible  sac- 
rifice of  that  eloquence  which  is  generally  mute,  in  proportion 
to  its  expressiveness:  but  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of 
recording  the  fact,  that  their  power  over  my  own  feelings,  as  I 
read  them  on  the  spot,  and  in  the  circumstances  which  I  have 
hinted,  was  such  as  beggars  description. 

A  moonlight  ramble  on  the  heights  of  Clifton,  and  another  in 
the  early  morning,  next  day,  concluded  my  rapid  visit  to  this 
region ;  and  I  took  the  top  of  the  coach  soon  after  to  the  city  of 
"Wells.  This  little  journey*  over  the  Mendip  hills,  which  gave  me 
frequent  opportunities  for  walking,  was  enlivened  by  the  conversa- 
tion of  a  sharp-featured  little  dissenting  minister,  who  volunteered 
his  opinions  upon  all  subjects,  and  who  seemed  peculiarly  anxious 
to  give  me  his  own  opinions  of  the  clergy  of  the  Church.  "There 
are,"  said  he,  with  an  oracular  look,  and  the  keen  expression  of 
a  desire  to  know  how  the  fact  might  strike  me,  "there  are  18,000 
Church  clergymen  in  England:  of  these,  there  may  possibly  be 
4,000  who  are  in  different  degrees  evangelical ;  4,000  are  vicious 
and  idle;  and  10,000,  including  all  the  young  clergy,  are  Puset/ites, 
who  neither  know  how  to  teach  the  Gospel,  nor  what  the  Gospel 
is !"  He  thought  there  was  no  prospect  of  any  disruption  be- 
tween Church  and  State ;  and,  at  last,  whispered  in  my  ear,  that 
he  had  serious  thoughts  of  emigrating  to  America.  I  was  ama- 
zed at  this  little  man's  utterly  unconscious  lack  of  Christian 
charity.  Of  the  10,000  clergy  whom  he  thus  denounced  in 
the  gross,  as  the  worst  of  men,  I  had  myself  been  for  weeks  close- 
ly associated  with  many,  in  whom  I  had  seen  exemplified  every 
Christian  grace,  and  from  whom  I  had  gathered  lessons  of  practi- 
cal piety,  for  which  I  had  reason  to  bless  God.     For  patience  in 

10* 


226  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

tribulation,  and  for  pastoral  fidelity ;  for  lives  devoted  to  the  good 
of  men,  and  fervent  with  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God,  I  had  never 
seen  their  equals ;  and  now,  to  hear  them  stigmatized  in  a  manner 
so  cool  and  professional,  by  one  who  soon  betrayed  his  personal 
animosity  by  adding — "  and  us,  dissenting  preachers,  they  treat  as 
a  race  of  upstart  tinkers" — made  me  lament  for  poor  human 
nature  and  its  deceitful  workings  even  in  good  men's  hearts !  I 
consoled  my  friend  by  hinting  that  in  America  the  Presbyterian 
and  Congregational  pastors  had  long  professed  a  somewhat  simi- 
lar contempt  for  the  clergy  of  the  Church,  having  for  nearly  two 
centuries  been  the  religious  chieftains  of  our  country ;  but  I  ven- 
tured to  intimate  that  we  did  not  on  that  account  feel  the  less 
respect  for  ourselves,  or  think  it  right  to  deny  them  the  credit  of 
many  estimable  qualities,  and  the  right  of  being  judged  by  Him 
who  alone  searcheth  the  heart.  I  believe  it  was  after  tins,  that 
the  worthy  man  proposed  adding  himself  to  our  population ;  a 
scheme  in  which  I  could  not  discourage  him,  convinced,  as  I  was, 
that  a  taste  of  our  religious  condition  might  perhaps  change  his 
views  as  to  the  comparative  evils  of  the  English  Church,  and 
those  of  the  Saturnalia  of  unbelief  which  are  fast  developing  un- 
der the  influences  of  our  illimitable  sectarianism. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 


Glastonbury —  Wells — The  Jubilee. 

I  found  in  the  ruins  of  the  abbey  at  Glastonbury  a  full  re- 
ward for  my  efforts  to  pay  them  a  visit.  The  architecture  of 
these  ruins  is  of  a  character  widely  different  from  that  of  Tintern  ; 
and  the  surrounding  scenery,  though  marked  by  one  bold  emi- 
nence called  the  Tor,  is  that  of  a  fat  agricultural  region,  wholly 
unlike  the  romantic  valley  of  the  Wye,  Yet  the  old  wattled 
church  of  the  early  Britons  which  once  stood  here ;  the  tradition 
that  Joseph  of  Arimathea  proclaimed  the  gospel  on  this  spot ;  the 
legendary  interest  that  attaches  to  the  memory  of  St.  Dunstan, 
and  the  superb  remains  of  what  was  once  the  richest  monastery 
in  the  kingdom,  invest  the  now  silent  precincts  of  the  Abbey 
with  peculiar  charms.  The  chapel  called  St.  Joseph's  is  still  an 
exquisite  specimen  of  art,  and  in  its  crypt  is  a  spring  reputed  to 
derive  extraordinary  virtues  from  some  association  with  his  visit. 
A  huge  stone  coffin,  lying  empty  and  dishonoured  in  the  aisle  of 
the  Abbey  Church,  was  shown  to  me  as  having  once  contained 
the  corpse  of  King  Arthur.  Here  again  was  the  figure  of  an  old 
abbot ;  and  as  I  strode  over  the  clovered  floor  of  the  holy  place, 
amid  broken  corbels  and  shattered  columns,  I  found  an  artist 
seated  among  them,  at  his  task,  sketching  the  beautiful  rem- 
nant of  an  old  turret,  winch  rises  amid  the  surrounding  wreck, 
almost  the  only  uninjured  memorial  of  the  former  glory  of  the 
pile.  At  a  distance,  which  gives  one  an  idea  of  the  great  extent 
of-  the  old  establishment,  stands  the  kitchen  of  the  monastery 
still  entire.  It  is  an  octagon,  of  vast  circumference,  and  contains 
several  curious  relics  of  the  Abbey.  I  next  visited  St.  Benedict's 
Church,  which  disputes  with  several  others  the  claim  of  being  the 
oldest  in  the  kingdom ;  and  so,  taking  a  post-chaise,  drove  back 


228  IMPEESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

to  Wells,  after  a  due  reverence  to  the  celebrated  thorn  which  is 
said  to  be  the  lineal  successor  of  St.  Joseph's  walking-stick,  and 
which  blooms  every  year,  at  Christmas  as  well  as  in  the  early 
summer.  Of  its  blossoming  at  Christmas,  or  Epiphany,  I  sup- 
pose there  can  be  no  doubt.  I  was  assured,  on  the  spot,  that 
such  was  the  case.  King  Charles  used  to  make  merry  with  the 
papists  by  calling  their  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  refused  to 
observe  the  Gregorian  Calendar;  and  when,  in  1752,  New  Style 
was  introduced  into  England,  some  two  thousand  of  the  neigh- 
bouring peasantry  assembled  to  watch  this  thorn  on  Christmas- 
eve,  who,  when  they  found  it  stubbornly  postponing  its  homage, 
but  punctually  putting  forth  blossoms  at  Old  Christmas,  as 
usual,  refused  to  recognize  the  novelty,  and  kept  their  holidays 
accordingly.  It  must  be  supposed,  therefore,  that  Twelfth  day 
is  the  real  festival  which  it  honours  with  its  strange  efflores- 
cence. 

The  cathedral  of  Wells  struck  me  as  surpassing  all  that  I  had 
yet  seen,  in  its  way.  The  exterior  view  is  fine,  and  the  front  is 
enriched  with  the  most  lavish  display  of  sculpture,  kings,  queens, 
and  saints,  each  in  an  embellished  niche,  and  all  together  convey- 
ing a  most  gorgeous  impression  to  the  beholder.  But  the  interior 
was  far  more  impressive.  Its  nave  was  fitted  with  a  pulpit  and 
benches,  and  had  the  appearance  of  being  used  and  frequented. 
But  the  choir  and  Lady-chapel  were  in  process  of  restoration,  on 
a  magnificent  scale,  and  appeared,  indeed,  quite  new.  Here  was 
a  modern  work,  not  inferior  to  the  old :  and  when  I  observed  the 
rich  effect  of  the  creamy  Caen  stone,  contrasted  with  the  dark 
and  polished  pillars  of  Purbeck  marble,  and  marked  the  effective 
introduction  of  colours  and  gilding,  amid  the  delicate  foliations 
and  tracery  of  stalls  and  tombs,  then,  first,  I  understood  what 
must  have  been  the  magnificence  of  these  cathedrals,  when  new 
and  entire !  It  was  pleasing  to  see  such  proof  that  the  Church 
is  still  instinct  with  all  the  spirit  of  mediaeval  taste,  under  the 
influences  of  restored  purity  of  religion ;  and  that  all  the  cun- 
ning of  Bezaleel  can  be  still  employed  by  our  reformed  ritual, 
though  the  craft  of  Demetrius,  in  making  shrines  for  idolatrous 
services,  is  no  longer  required. 

I  will  not  weary  my  reader  with  the  numerous  details  of  this 
glorious  pile,  nor  with  those  of  the  Bishop's  palace,  its  moat  and 
drawbridge ;  nor  yet  with  memories  of  the  blessed  Bishop  Ken, 
which  still  linger  in  fragrance  about  these  holy  places :  but  I 
must  observe,  that  the  present  Bishop  has  done  a  good  work  in 


AN   ORDINATION.  229 

restoring  to  his  cathedral  the  important  feature  of  a  theological 
school.  In  his  palace  is  their  chapel,  a  most  appropriate  one ; 
and  as  I  went  through  the  cathedral,  it  was  pleasant  to  see  seve- 
ral students  in  their  gowns,  lingering  here  and  there  in  the  aisles, 
and  vanishing  and  re-appearing  amid  the  columns. 

A  romantic  drive  from  Wells,  full  of  interesting  views,  brought 
me  to  Bath.  Here,  too,  was  much  to  see ;  but  its  Abbey  is  a 
poor  object  after  Wells,  and  the  town  of  Beau  Nash  need  not 
long  detain  an  ecclesiastic.  I  left,  in  the  night,  for  Berkshire ; 
and  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  was  present  at  an  Ordination, 
held  at  Bradtield  Church,  by  the  Bishop  of  Oxford.  The  Church, 
and  neighbouring  College,  at  which  I  was  a  guest,  are  well 
worthy  of  description  ;  but  I  have  only  space  to  add,  that  the 
ceremonial  of  Ordination  differed  from  our  own  only  in  the  mi- 
nute particulars  of  the  oath  of  supremacy,  and  in  the  Bishop's 
sitting  in  his  chair  while  administering  the  imposition  of  hands. 
Thirteen  priests,  and  a  larger  number  of  deacons,  were  admitted 
to  Orders.  The  preacher  was  the  estimable  Sir  George  Prevost ; 
and  at  Evening  Prayer,  I  had  the  great  satisfaction  of  addressing 
the  newly  ordained  clergy,  by  appointment  of  the  Bishop,  and 
afterwards  of  dining  with  him,  and  them,  at  the  College,  where 
I  am  happy  to  testify  that  all  things  were  done  unto  edifying, 
until  the  close  of  the  day.  I  was  charmed  with  the  Bishop's 
manner  in  private  intercourse  with  his  younger  clergy ;  and  <iot 
less  gratified  to  learn  that  the  Ordination  had  been  preceded  by 
his  personal  conference  with  each  individual,  in  which  the  awful 
responsibilities  of  the  ministry  had  been  freely  enforced,  and  fully 
recognized.  Those  whom  I  had  seen  ordained,  had  come  to  that 
solemnity,  therefore,  with  the  fullest  sense  of  its  unspeakable  con- 
sequences to  their  souls ;  and,  so  far  as  could  be  ascertained,  with 
holy  resolutions  to  be  faithful  unto  death. 

The  solemnities  of  the  Jubilee  of  the  Venerable  S.  P.  G.,  now 
called  me  back  to  London,  and  to  a  renewal  of  its  social  plea- 
sures. On  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  June,  I  attended,  at 
Westminster  Abbey,  with  a  large  number  of  the  clergy,  the  open- 
ing services.  It  was  a  memorable  occasion ;  the  choir  of  the 
Abbey  being  tilled  with  a  dense  crowd  of  Avorshippers,  among 
whom,  to  judge  by  their  looks  and  complexions,  were  men  "out 
of  every  nation  under  heaven."  The  Bishop  of  London  was  the 
preacher,  and  gave  us  an  appropriate  sermon,  characterized  by 
the  finish  for  which  his  performances  are  noted,  and  not  deficient 
in  feeling  or  fervour.     It  contained  gratifying  allusions  to  the 


230  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

American  Church,  one  of  whose  prelates,  Bishop  Otey,  was  pre- 
sent, in  the  sanctuary,  and  assisting  in  the  services.  A  large 
number  of  communicants  knelt  at  the  altar ;  and  while  several 
of  my  English  friends  made  an  effort  to  receive  at  the  hands  of 
the  Bishop  of  Tennessee,  in  gratifying  their  feelings  of  Catholic  in- 
tercommunion, I  found  an  equal  satisfaction  in  receiving  the 
Holy  Sacrament  from  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  During 
the  whole  solemnity,  which  filled  up  several  hours,  my  mind  was 
powerfully  impressed  with  the  historical  spirit  of  the  place ;  and 
while  I  listened  to  the  sermon,  glancing  occasionally  upward  to 
the  vaulted  roof,  or  allowing  my  eye  to  wander  away  among  the 
columns  of  the  nave  or  choir,  it  was  impossible  to  divest  myself 
of  associations  the  most  sublime,  that  seemed  to  swarm  around 
me,  like  "  a  cloud  of  witnesses,"  blending  the  interminable  past 
with  the  momentary  present.  Here  we  were,  in  our  turn,  upon 
the  stage,  the  great  actors  of  past  centuries  lying  all  around  us ! 
Through  yonder  gate,  beneath  the  great  rose-window,  pomp  and 
procession  have  entered  this  holy  place,  age  after  age ;  and  here, 
one  after  another,  each  as  real  in  its  time  as  that  which  occupies 
us  now,  have  the  great  solemnities  of  the  nation  been  celebrated. 
These  arches  and  aisles  looked  just  as  they  look  this  minute  on 
the  day  when  Laud  ushered  in  King  Charles  to  receive  his  crown, 
and  when,  just  here,  he  was  presented,  to  the  Lords  and  Com- 
mons assisting  at  that  pregnant  moment,  as  their  anointed 
Sovereign.  The  thought  of  all  that  has  since  passed  on  the  same 
spot,  seemed  to  compress  into  the  mere  drama  of  an  hour,  the 
mighty  history  of  which  such  was  the  opening  scene.  Then  the 
thought  of  the  entire  ignorance  of  futurity,  by  which  such  a 
pageant  was  made  real  in  its  time  !  Imagination  places  us  back 
among  the  men  of  a  by-gone  age  ;  but  we  cannot  strip  our  individu- 
ality of  its  historic  knowledge,  and  we  behold  their  doings  with 
the  eyes  of  a  seer.  I  seemed  to  be  listening  to  the  shout  of 
"Long  live  King  Charles" — and  at  the  same  moment  foreseeing 
the  scaffold  at  Whitehall.  I  seemed  to  wonder  that  others  could 
be  ignorant  of  what  was  coming :  and  to  feel  compelled  to  fore- 
warn the  King  of  the  dreadful  future.  Just  so  the  jubilant  coro- 
nation of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  melancholy  inauguration 
of  his  successor,  flitted  before  me,  with  the  events  of  years  con- 
densed into  a  moment:  and  then  again  I  found  myself  going 
back  to  the  days  of  Elizabeth  and  her  hateful  sire;  and  so 
mounting  to  the  Plantagenets  and  Normans.  It  is  said  that  we 
cannot  think  of  two  things  at  once :  but  certainly,  while  I  was 


THE    JUBILEE.  231 

absorbed  in  the  sermon,  I  was  yet  occupied  with  such  thoughts 
as  these,  and,  in  fact,  was  giving  the  preacher  the  full  benefit  of 
all  this  as  a  background,  while  I  looked  on  him  as  the  prominent 
figure  of  the  picture.  The  psalms  for  the  day  had  been  exceed- 
ingly suggestive  and  appropriate ;  they  were  the  Deus  venerunt, 
the  Qui  regis  Israel,  and  the  Exultate  Deo  ;  and  all  the  while  I  was 
mentally  contrasting  1851  with  1651,  and  saying,  "What  hath 
God  wrought !"  That  day,  two  hundred  years  ago,  the  Puritans 
were  in  the  Abbey,  making  havoc  of  its  holy  things,  and  exulting 
over  the  annihilation  of  the  Church  of  England.  They  supposed 
her  exterminated,  "  root  and  branch  :"  it  was  a  felony  to  read  one 
of  her  ancient  Collects  in  the  poorest  cottage  of  the  land.  And 
now !  I  was  surrounded  by  representatives  of  her  communion, 
who  had  come  up  to  keep  her  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  missionary 
festival  from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  Beside  the  Pri- 
mate of  all  England,  stood  before  me  the  Bishops  of  Argyle,  of 
Jamaica,  and  of  Tennessee.  Around  me  were  kneeling  Africans, 
Asiatics,  and  Americans,  with  the  islanders  of  the  South  Seas, 
all  partakers  of  her  holy  fellowship  :  and  passing  from  such  a 
past  to  such  a  present — what  a  leap  my  spirit  took  into  the 
future.  Another  jubilee — and  another !  Who  shall  set  a  limit 
to  the  ingathering  of  nations ;  to  the  latter-day  triumphs  of  the 
Gospel  ? 

"  Visions  of  Glory,  spare  my  aching  sight ; 
Ye  unborn  ages  crowd  not  on  my  soul." 

When  the  services  were  over,  it  took  some  time  to  emancipate 
myself  from  the  spell  of  the  place,  and  I  wandered  to  and  fro  in 
the  Abbey.  A  dear  friend,  a  fellow  of  Oriel  College,  caught  me 
by  the  hand,  and  pointed  to  the  slab  beneath  my  feet.  It  covered 
Samuel  Johnson.  "  Surely  old  Samuel's  bones  must  have  been 
stirred  to-day  by  the  Church's  Jubilee,"  said  I,  "  but  don't  think 
you  have  shown  me  his  grave  for  the  first  time ;  I  already  know 
all  the  choice  spots  in  this  floor,  and  have  knelt  on  that  very 
slab,  and  given  God  thanks  for  his  servant  Samuel." 

I  dined  that  day  with  a  party  of  zealous  Churchmen,  and  sup- 
porters of  the  S.  P.  G. ;  and,  in  the  evening,  went  to  an  ecclesias- 
tical conversazione  at  Willis'  Rooms.  We  drove,  in  a  private 
carriage,  through  Hyde  Park  and  St.  James's,  and  were  set  down 
at  "Almack's"  as  superbly  as  if  Ave  had  come  on  as  gay  an 
errand  as  is  the  more  usual  one  of  its  visitors.  But  those  bril- 
liant rooms  were  now  thronged  with  a  graver  company,  the 


232  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

object  of  the  festivity  being  to  do  honour  to  foreign  ecclesiastics 
and  pastors,  who  might  be  in  London  on  occasion  of  the  Jubilee 
and  the  Crystal  Palace.  I  was  presented  to  the  Primate,  who 
conversed  with  a  simplicity  of  manner  the  most  impressive,  and 
invited  me  to  Lambeth  with  a  sort  of  cordiality,  the  very  reverse 
of  that  stateliness  and  etiquette  which  it  was  not  unnatural  to 
expect  in  the  address  of  one  so  exalted  in  station.  I  was  much 
pleased  with  his  venerable  appearance,  and  accepted  the  kind 
appointment  of  an  hour,  which  he  named,  for  my  visit  to  the 
Archiepiscopal  palace,  with  peculiar  pleasure.  His  Grace  was 
surrounded  by  his  brother  Bishops,  among  whom  I  saw,  for  the 
first  time,  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin ;  a  prelate  of  acknowledged 
talent,  but  whose  gifts  would  have  better  fitted  the  Academy  than 
the  throne  of  a  Primate.  An  Oriental  Archimandrite  completed 
the  group  in  this  quarter ;  and  other  parts  of  the  rooms  swarmed 
with  solemn  looking  men,  talking  German  and  French  with  their 
English  entertainers,  or  vainly  essaying  civilities  in  Low  Dutch 
and  Danish.  One  of  these  personages,  who  looked  as  if  he 
might  have  figured,  with  credit  to  himself,  at  the  Synod  of  Dort, 
attacked  me  in  the  dialect  of  the  Flemings,  to  my  utter  conster- 
nation. I  could  only  stammer  out  a  little  gibberish,  as  a  reply, 
and  precipitately  sounded  a  retreat,  in  utter  distrust  of  my  ability 
to  sustain  a  further  conversation  with  my  unknown  colloquist  to 
mutual  satisfaction.  I  soon  afterward  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  Chevalier  Bunsen,  with  whom,  as  one  of  the  curiosities  of 
the  age,  I  was  not  sorry  to  have  this  opportunity  of  exchanging 
a  few  words.  The  Chevalier  is  at  home  on  every  subject,  and  I 
found  him  communicative  on  the  favourite  topic  which  I  ventur- 
ed to  start,  by  referring  to  a  common  friend,  whom  he  had  known 
very  well  in  Kome.  One  after  another  I  encountered,  during  the 
evening,  many  eminent  and  agreeable  personages,  among  whom 
were  officers  of  the  army,  dignitaries  of  the  Church,  several 
Bishops,  and  the  Earl  of  Harrowby.  The  company  was  alto- 
gether a  brilliant  one,  in  spite  of  the  polemical  figures  who  con- 
stituted so  important  a  part  of  it ;  and  the  stars  and  decorations 
of  the  nobility,  and  of  foreign  officials,  were  quite  conspicuous, 
among  the  white  neckerchiefs  and  black  broadcloth  of  the  eccle- 
siastics and  pastors. 

I  breakfasted,  next  morning,  with  the  Rector  of  St.  Martin's 
in  the  Fields,  and  then  accompanied  him,  on  a  visiting  tour,  about 
his  parish.  First,  I  went  to  the  parish-school,  which  had  lately 
been  rebuilt,  and  was  deemed  a  model.      Prince  Albert,  who 


AN  ANCIENT  MAN.  233 

interests  himself  in  such  things,  was  to  visit  it  that  very  day,  and 
I  was  kindly  asked  by  the  Rector  to  be  of  the  company,  but  Avas 
otherwise  engaged.  One  of  the  peculiarities  of  this  building  was 
its  ingenious  contrivance  of  a  play-ground — if  that  may  be  so 
called,  which  was  some  fifty  or  sixty  feet  above  the  earth.  Land 
being  costly  in  the  parish  of  St.  Martin's,  the  building  was  plan- 
ned with  a  double  roof,  the  lower  one  being  flat,  and  surrounded 
with  a  high  fence,  affording  a  safe  and  ample  space  for  the  recre- 
ation of  the  children ;  while  the  roof  above  them  served  as  an 
awning  against  the  sun,  or  as  a  shelter  from  the  rain.  A  fine 
view,  and  as  pure  an  atmosphere  as  London  can  afford,  were  ad- 
ditional advantages  of  the  arrangement.  Next,  we  visited  the 
parochial  baths  and  wash-houses,  in  which  the  poor  have  the  best 
opportunity  for  washing  and  drying  clothes,  and  also  of  keeping 
their  persons  in  a  neat  and  wholesome  condition,  at  the  cost  of  a 
few  pennies.  The  benevolence  and  utility  of  the  establishment 
must  be  obvious.  Next  the  Rector  took  me  to  see  Coleman,  one 
of  his  parishioners,  who  was  then  in  his  102d  year,  and  a  fine 
and  healthy-looking  man  at  that.  What  is  better,  he  is  unfeign- 
edly  pious,  and  joined  devoutly  in  the  prayers  which  were  offered 
by  his  pastor,  responding  with  fervour,  and  saying,  in  reply  to 
one  of  his  questions — "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth."  This 
aged  Christian  owes  his  serene  and  consoling  faith,  under  God,  to 
his  early  training  in  the  charity  school,  established  in  this  parish 
by  Archbishop  Tennison.  He  was  a  pupil  in  that  school  when 
George  the  Second  died,  and  remembers  the  tolling  of  the  great 
bell  of  St.  Paul's,  to  announce  the  event.  He  also  remembers 
the  Coronation  of  George  the  Third,  and  the  procession,  which 
he  saw  as  it  went  to  the  Abbey,  on  that  occasion.  Think  of  his 
living  to  see,  as  he  did,  the  procession  of  Victoria  to  the  Crystal 
Palace,  with  the  same  pair  of  eyes !  It  was  gratifying  to  hear 
his  testimony  to  the  vast  improvement  in  manners  which  has 
been  going  on  in  London  since  he  was  a  boy.  He  remembers  the 
nights  and  days  which  Hogarth  has  so  frightfully  depicted ;  and 
he  says,  too  truly,  that  to  be  a  gentleman,  was  to  be  a  rake,  almost 
universally,  when  he  was  a  boy.  "  It  was  as  much  as  one  's 
life  was  worth,"  he  says,  "  to  walk  the  streets,  at  night,  in  those 
days."  The  same  day,  I  heard  Mr.  Sydney  Herbert  remark,  in 
his  speech  at  St,  Martin's  Hall,  that  this  age  is  reputed  better 
than  its  antecessors,  chiefly  became,  while  it  cares  not  what  a  man 
may  be  at  heart,  it  compels  him  to  be  decent. 

This  meeting  at  St.  Martin's  Hall,  by  the  way,  must  not  be 


234  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

forgotten.  It  was  part  of  the  Jubilee.  Prince  Albert  presided, 
and  did  so,  I  must  allow,  in  a  very  princely  style,  so  far  as  his 
personal  bearing  was  concerned.  As  he  entered,  which  he  did 
with  great  dignity,  the  whole  assembly  rose,  and  sang  God  Save 
the  Queen.  This  struck  me  as  exceedingly  handsome  and  appro- 
priate :  but  I  was  not  so  Avell  pleased  with  the  fulsome  adulation 
with  which  some  of  the  speakers,  afterwards,  seemed  to  think  it 
necessary  to  bedaub  him.  He  was  himself  guilty  of  a  flagrant 
breach  of  propriety,  as  it  struck  me,  in  alluding  to  William  of 
Orange,  who  happened  to  be  on  the  throne  when  the  Charter  of 
the  S.  P.  G.  was  signed  and  sealed,  as  "  the  greatest  sovereign  who 
ever  reigned  in  Great  Britain."  To  this  ill-judged  compliment  to 
one  of  the  foreign  adventurers  who  have  succeeded  in  planting 
themselves  in  British  palaces,  a  few  gaping  mouths  in  the  auditory 
ejaculated  the  response,  "hear,  hear" — for  which  the  sentence 
was  evidently  a  studied  catch:  but  I  am  glad  to  say  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  assembly  was  not  such  as  to  be  so  entrapped. 
It  was  a  failure,  absolutely,  though  the  Times  reported  "  great 
applause,"  as  a  matter  of  course.  When  a  prince  condescends  to 
set  up  for  a  critic  upon  royalty,  he  deserves  no  better  success : 
and  the  ill  taste  of  this  particular  attempt,  on  such  an  occasion, 
seemed  to  me  offensive  in  the  extreme.  It  is  plain  that  the 
prince  has  learned  his  historical  alphabet  from  Macaulay,  and  has 
studied  no  further :  but  I  considered  this  straw  as  indicative  of  a 
coming  wind,  with  which  the  founder  of  the  House  of  Coburg  should 
not  have  threatened  the  Church  so  soon.  He  may  yet  reap  the  whirl- 
wind himself,  or  bequeath  it  to  his  children  :  for  it  is  evident,  to  me, 
that  amiable  and  estimable  as  he  is,  in  many  respects,  and  beloved 
as  he  is  by  a  loyal  people  as  the  consort  of  their  Queen,  he  is  an 
alien  to  true  British  feeling,  and  an  enemy  to  the  Anglican  Church. 
He  would  Germanize  the  nation  if  possible ;  above  all,  he  longs 
to  Bunsenize  the  national  religion. 

On  the  whole,  I  found  myself  too  much  of  an  American 
Churchman  to  relish  this  meeting.  It  was  humiliating  to  see  the 
venerable  Archbishop  paying  such  deference  to  one  who,  though 
so  nearly  allied  to  the  throne,  is  in  no  wise  entitled  to  especial 
homage  from  so  august  a  personage  as  the  Primate  of  all  Eng- 
land :  and  I  considered  it  insufferable  that  such  official  personages 
as  Lord  John  llussell,  and  Earl  Grey,  should  be  chief  speakers, 
merely  because  of  their  position,  although  flagrant  enemies  of  the 
Church's  holiest  principles.  A  more  turgid  piece  of  bombast 
than  the  former  delivered,  I  have  never  chanced  to  hear,  and  his 


LAMBETH.        .  235 

v!iole  appearance  was,  to  me,  ludicrously  revolting.  It  must 
aot  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  meeting  went  off  without  ef- 
fect. It  was  nobly  redeemed  by  admirable  speeches  from  Sydney 
Herbert,  the  Duke  of  Newcastle.  Sir  Robert  Inglis.  and  the  Earl 
of  Harrowbv,  as  Veil  as  from  the  Bishops  of  Oxford  and  Lon- 
don. Lord  Harrowbv.  in  particular,  reflecting  on  the  Walpoles 
and  the  Graftons  of  former  ministerial  epochs  with  just  severity, 
gave  Lord  John  some  wise  counsels,  while  apparently  congratu- 
lating him  on  his  widely  different  policy,  in  patronizing  Missions ! 
Mr.  Sydney  Herbert  was  truly  eloquent,  and  threw  out  several 
sparkling  abstractions,  which  greatly  raised  my  estimate  of  his 
mental  power ;  but  the  natural  orator,  among  them  all,  was  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford,  whose  delightful  voice,  pleading  for  the  creation 
of  a  staff  of  native  Missionaries  in  Africa,  India,  and  China,  in- 
fused a  thrill  of  feeling  through  every  heart,  as  he  wound  up  with 
the  scriptural  example  of  those  whose  first  transports,  in  receiving 
the  Gospel,  found  vent  in  the  expression — "  Y\~e  do  hear  them 
speak,  in  our  tongues,  the  wonderful  works  of  God." 

As  duly  appointed.  I  waited  on  the  Archbishop  at  Lambeth, 
and  was  received  with  very  little  ceremony,  into  his  study, — a 
spacious  apartment,  plainly  furnished,  and  overlooking  the  garden 
of  the  Palace.  His  manner  was,  as  before,  extremely  simple  and 
affable ;  and  he  conversed  upon  divers  ecclesiastical  subjects  with 
an  appearance  of  zeal,  and  with  a  general  tone  of  elevated 
churchmanship,  for  which  he  is  certainly  not  celebrated  as  a  Pri- 
mate. It  was  with  the  profoundest  reverence  that  I  listened  to 
the  successor  of  Augustine  and  of  Cranmer ;  and  not  without 
deference  did  I  venture  to  express  myself,  in  his  presence,  even 
on  American  subjects.  As  I  rose  to  depart,  he  followed  me  to 
the  door  of  the  room,  with  something  exceedingly  winning  and 
paternal  in  his  farewell ;  and  kindly  invited  me  to  dine  with  him, 
on  a  day  which  he  named,  as  the  only  one  when  he  expected  to 
be  at  home  for  some  time.  This  pleasure  I  was  forced  to  deny 
myself,  owing  to  a  previous  engagement ;  and  I  accordingly  con- 
cluded my  visit  to  Lambeth,  at  this  time,  by  going  the  usual 
rounds  in  company  with  an  official,  to  whom  His  Grace  commit- 
ted me.  My  readers  may  well  imagine  my  emotions  in  surveving 
the  Lollard's  Tower,  the  gallery  of  historic  portraits,  the  library, 
and  other  apartments,  of  this  most  interesting  pile  ;  but  perhaps 
they  might  not  wholly  appreciate  the  feelings  with  which  I  knelt 
in  the  chapel,  and  returned  thanks  for  our  American  Episcopacy, 
on  the  spot  where  it  was  imparted  to  the  saintly  White.     I  lin- 


236  IMPKESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

gered,  for  a  long  time,  in  the  gardens,  thinking  of  Laud,  of  Juxon, 
and  of  Sancroft ;  and  dwelling,  with  peculiar  gratification  in  my 
imagination,  upon  the  scenes  between  Laud  and  "  Mr.  Hyde,"  of 
which  these  gardens  were  the  witness,  as  mentioned  in  the  pic- 
tured pages  of  Clarendon.  • 

The  solemn  octave  of  the  Jubilee  included  Sunday  the  2 2d  of 
June,  on  which  day  special  sermons  were  preached  in  many  pul- 
pits, in  London,  and  collections  made  in  behalf  of  the  Society.  I 
received  an  appointment  to  preach  at  Bow  Church,  and  accord- 
ingly did  so,  taking  as  a  text  Genesis  ix.  27,  and  endeavouring  to 
show  that  the  existence  of  our  own  Church,  in  the  Western 
World,  is  a  fulfilment  of  the  prophecy,  "  God  shall  enlarge 
Japhet,  and  he  shall  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Shem."  But  a  greater 
privilege  awaited  me  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day,  when  it  was 
my  happy  lot  to  perform  a  similar  duty,  in  the  Temple  Church, 
standing  in  Hooker's  pulpit,  and  preaching  to  a  congregation  of 
the  highest  intelligence  and  character,  upon  the  spread  of  the 
Church  in  America.  It  was  a  fine  afternoon,  and  that  glorious 
Church  was  filled  with  such  an  assembly  as  I  had  never  before 
seen  gathered  together  on  an  occasion  of  ordinary  worship.  Be- 
sides the  Bishops  of  Winchester  and  Edinburgh,  who  happened 
to  be  present,  with  the  Master  of  the  Temple,  and  other  clergy, 
the  benchers  were  numerously  represented,  and  the  finest  legal 
talent  of  the  empire  was  undoubtedly  there  collected.  To 
judge  by  the  large  attendance  of  ladies,  (some  of  them  of  the 
highest  rank,)  the  Templars  were  also  accompanied  by  their  fami- 
lies :  to  whom,  I  suppose,  the  music  furnishes  a  powerful  attrac- 
tion, as  it  is  justly  celebrated ;  and  the  organ,  though  selected 
two  hundred  years  ago,  by  the  critical  ear  of  the  bloody  Judge 
Jeffreys,  is  of  a  tone  proverbially  sweet.  The  attendance  of 
strangers,  drawn  together  by  the  same  attraction,  was  also  very 
large,  the  round  church  as  well  as  the  choir,  being  apparently 
filled.  I  was  much  moved  by  the  anthem — "  Tell  it  out  among 
the  heathen  that  the  Lord  is  King" — and  when  it  was  time  for 
me  to  ascend  the  pulpit,  and  to  preach  to  such  an  Areopagus,  it 
may  be  imagined  that  it  was  not  without  feelings  of  emotion, 
such  as  I  had  never  before  experienced  in  the  performance  of  my 
official  duties.  That  old  historic  spot,  where  Hooker  had  strug- 
gled to  preserve  the  falling  Church  of  a  single  kingdom,  was  now 
occupied  by  my  pilgrim  feet ;  and  coming  from  a  new  world,  I 
was  to  attest,  before  such  an  assembly,  and  in  the  presence  of 
God,  the  blessings  which  that  noble  struggle  had  secured,  not  to 


SAMUEL  WARREN.  237 

England  only,  but  through  her  to  the  wilds  of  America,  and  to 
the  unborn  generations  of  a  new  and  mighty  people  in  another 
hemisphere.  The  text  was  the  prophecy  of  David,  (Psalm  xlv. 
17,)  "Instead  of  thy  fathers  thou  shalt  have  children,  whom  thou 
mayest  make  princes  in  all  lands :"  and  it  was  my  effort,  (as  T 
trust  I  may  say,  without  too  free  a  personal  confession)  to  im- 
prove so  interesting  an  opportunity,  in  commending  my  country 
to  the  respect  of  those  who  heard  me,  while  confessing  the  just 
claims  upon  her  gratitude,  of  the  Mother  land,  from  which  she  is 
proud  to  derive  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  institutions 
of  enlightened  freedom,  guarded  by  the  supremacy  of  law.  After 
service,  the  Master  of  the  Temple,  taking  me  into  his  adjoining 
residence,  showed  me  a  table  which  once  belonged  to  his  great 
predecessor,  Hooker,  and  allowed  me  to  sit  down  in  Hooker's 
chair.  He  also  showed  me  some  memorials  of  Bishop  Heber, 
whose  missionary  labours  in  India  he  had  as.-istcd,  as  his  chaplain. 
The  evening  was  passed  under  the  domestic  roof  of  Dr.  Warren, 
the  eminent  bencher,  whose  remarkable  production,  "  Ten  thou- 
sand a-year,"  has  added  to  his  other  distinctions,  that  of  reform- 
ing the  romance  literature  of  the  age,  and  of  introducing  a  tone 
of  high  Christian  morality,  in  place  of  that  fashionable  depravity 
which  Bulwer  had  caught  from  Byron,  and  substituted  for  the 
decent  propriety  of  Scott.  To  his  polite  hospitalities  I  was  in- 
debted for  some  of  my  happiest  hours  in  London :  and  the  con- 
clusion of  this  Holy  Day  was  rendered  memorable  by  many 
warm  expressions  of  regard  for  my  country  and  her  Church,  in- 
spired by  his  conversation,  in  the  genial  society  of  his  family  and 
friends. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 


Lord  Mayor's  Banquet — Eton  College — Hampton. 

The  Jubilee  festival  at  Westminster  Abbey  was  not  allowed 
to  supersede  the  annual  sermon  at  St.  Paul's ;  and  accordingly, 
on  the  18th  of  June,  I  attended  the  service  in  the  cathedral,  and 
heard  the  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph.  The  service  was  performed  with 
the  aid  of  "all  the  choicest  music  of  the  kingdom,"  for  the  choirs 
of  the  royal  palaces  of  Windsor  and  St.  James's  were  added,  on 
this  occasion,  to  the  ordinary  musical  force  of  the  cathedral, 
with  very  great  effect.  The  clergy,  with  the  Bishops,  entered 
in  procession  through  the  nave,  and  the  Lord  Mayor  in  robes, 
and  with  the  civic  sword  borne  before  him,  figured  in  the  pageant, 
and  occupied  his  stall.  The  sermon  was  scarcely  audible  where 
I  sat,  within  the  rails  of  the  sanctuary,  but  it  seemed  to  be  ear- 
nestly delivered.  Then  came  the  Hallelujah  Chorus — which  I 
certainly  never  before  heard  so  impressively  performed.  "  And 
He  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever — King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of 
lords !"  The  reverberations  of  the  dome,  and  the  long  resound- 
ing echoes  of  those  noble  aisles  prolonged  the  strain,  and  made  it 
like  the  voice  of  many  waters  in  the  new  Jerusalem. 

It  was  Waterloo-day;  and,  while  the  Duke  was  supposed  to 
be  feasting  his  friends  at  Apsley  House,  the  Lord  Mayor,  at  the 
Mansion-house,  gave  a  city  feast  to  the  Clergy  of  London,  with 
others,  among  whom  I  had  the  honour  of  being  numbered.  It 
was,  in  fact,  a  dinner  given  to  the  S.  P.  G.,  in  honour  of  its 
Jubilee ;  and  I  owed  my  invitation  to  the  kind  offices  of  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford.  The  Mansion-house  is  the  official  residence 
of  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  it  is  a  conspicuous  object  in  Lombard- 
street,  near  the  Bank  of  England.  On  arriving,  we  were  shown 
into  an  ante-room,  where  the  Lord  Mayor  received  us,  and  we 


THE   MANSION  HOUSE/  239 

were  presented  to  the  Lady  Mayoress.  The  room  was  filled  with 
company,  and  here  I  met  several  distinguished  personages  whom 
I  had  not  seen  before.  I  was  particularly  pleased  with  being 
introduced,  by  Dean  Milman.  to  Dr.  Croly,  for  whose  genius 
and  productions  I  have  a  high  regard.  The  dinner  was  served  in 
the  Egyptian  Hall,  so  called  from  its  original  resemblance  to  a 
hall  described  by  Yitruvius.  It  is  a  spacious  banquet-room,  and 
looks  very  well  when  lighted,  although  destitute  of  such  specimens 
of  art  as  would  best  furnish  its  nudity  of  wall,  and  its  many 
"  coignes  of  vantage."  The  chief  table  crossed  the  hall  at  one 
end,  and  at  right  angles  witli  this,  four  long  tables  stretched 
through  the  apartment.  The  Lord  Mayor  and  Lady  Mayoress 
sat  in  state  at  the  head,  the  former  wearing  his  glittering  collar 
and  jewel,  as  well  as  his  robes,  with  the  city  mace,  sword,  and 
other  splendid  insignia  displayed  before  him.  The  Archbishop, 
with  the  Bishops,  were  seated  on  his  right  and  left,  dressed  in 
their  silk  gowns  and  cassocks,  in  which  costume  all  the  clergy  pre- 
sent were  attired.  The  ladies  made  a  very  superb  appearance,  and 
I  should  suppose  the  whole  company  numbered  about  two  hundred 
persons.  The  display  of  plate,  and  the  general  show  of  splendour, 
was  sumptuous,  in  all  respects,  answering  to  one's  ideas  of  a  Lord 
Mayor's  feast.  An  old-fashioned  civic  custom,  moreover,  was 
observed  with  a  certain  degree  of  punctilio,  which,  while  highly  be- 
coming, was  yet  to  me  highly  amusing,  and  made  me  feel,  all  the 
time,  as  if  I  were  dining  with  the  great  Wnittington  himself, 
especially  when  his  Lordship  sent  me  a  glass,  and  invited  me  to 
the  high  honour  of  drinking  witli  him.  The  mayor  of  such  a 
metropolis  is,  indeed,  for  the  time,  a  right  worshipful  personage, 
and  in  the  then  incumbent  I  saw  before  me  a  most  pleasing  re- 
presentee of  the  magistracy  of  the  greatest  capital  of  Christen- 
dom. He  is  attended  with  a  degree  of  state  quite  worthy  of  a 
sovereign.  It  was  odd.  I  must  own,  to  see  his  chaplain  come 
forward,  in  the  style  described  by  the  cynical  Maeaulav,  and, 
after  saying  grace,  retire.  So,  too,  the  presence  of  his  post-boy, 
in  flaming  jacket  and  short-clothes,  and  glittering  cap,  with  many 
other  servants,  in  showy  and  old-fashioned  liveries,  gave  an  an- 
tique appearance  to  the  magnificence  of  the  scene.  The  dinner 
was  served  with  like  attention  to  ancient  ceremonies,  'soup, 
venison,  comfits  and  all.  Before  the  dessert,  instead  of  finger- 
glasses,  golden  ewers  were  borne  about,  filled  with  rose-water, 
and  thus  every  body  performed  his  abstersion  most  fragrantly. 
At  the  head  of  each  table  was  then  set  an  enormous  golden 


240  IMPKESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

chalice,  with  a  cover  curiously  wrought,  the  Lord  Major  hav- 
ing a  still  more  magnificent  one  placed  before  him.  "What  next? 
The  toast-master  appeared  behind  his  lordship's  chair,  and  be- 
gan— "  My  Lord  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  my  Lord  Bishop  of 
London" — and  so  on  through  the  roll  of  Bishops — "my  Lords, 
Ladies  and  gentlemen!  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Lady  Mayoress 
greet  you  in  a  loving  cup,  and  give  you  a  hearty  welcome." 
The  Mayor  and  Mayoress  then  rose,  and  taking  the  loving  cup 
in  hand,  she  uncovered  it  for  him,  with  a  graceful  courtesy,  to 
which  he  returned  a  bow,  and  then  drank,  wiped  the  chalice 
with  his  napkin,  allowed  it  to  be  covered,  and  then  sat  down, 
while  the  lady,  turning  to  the  Archbishop,  who  rose  accordingly, 
repeated  the  ceremony,  save  that  he  uncovered  the  cup,  and  it 
was  her  turn  to  taste  the  draught.  Thus  the  cup  went  round. 
It  was  my  duty  to  begin  the  rite  at  the  table  at  which  I  sat, 
and  happily  I  received  the  kindest  instructions  beforehand  from 
my  partner,  so  that  I  did  my  duty  well  enough  for  a  novice :  but 
a  more  beautiful  ceremony,  as  the  pairs  successively  rose  and  sat, 
along  the  splendid  room,  I  never  beheld.  I  thought  of  Vortigern 
and  Rowena:  but  the  origin  of  the  custom  is  said  to  have  been 
even  before  the  days — 

When  they  carved  at  the  meal 
In  their  gloves  of  steel, 
And  drank  the  red  wine  thro'  tho  helmet  barr'd ; 

and  when,  as  one  lifted  his  arm  to  drink,  it  was  deemed  a  neces- 
sary precaution  that  one  should  stand  up  to  guard  him  from  a 
fifth-rib.  With  less  ceremony,  the  custom  still  obtains  in  the 
halls  of  Oxford ;  but  where  the  ladies  take  a  part  in  it,  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  most  graceful  embellishment  of  feasting. 

Instead  of  the  usual  grace  after  meat,  a  party  of  male  and  fe- 
male singers  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the  hall,  and  reverently  sang 
a  little  hymn,  all  the  company  rising.  His  Lordship  then  in- 
formed the  company  that  "  on  occasion  of  receiving  his  friends 
at  the  Mansion-house,  it  was  his  privilege  to  dispense  with  all 
rules  save  those  which  governed  the  ancient  entertainments  of 
the  city  of  London,  one  of  which  enabled  him  to  request  the 
ladies  to  remain  at  the  table,  and  to  hope  for  the  continued 
honour  of  their  company  during  the  evening."  After  this  velvety 
preface,  he  pronounced  the  first  toast,  with  a  similar  softness, 
and  then  the  toast-master  shouted — "My  lords,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men,  the  Lord  Mayor  has  given   the  Queen."      All  rose,   and 


AN    OLD   CUSTOM.  241 

drank  loyally,  and  then  came  "  God  save  the  Queen,"  which  was 
heartily  sung.  "  Please  to  charge  your  glasses  for  the  next 
toast,"  was  the  perpetual  cry  of  the  toast-master  for  the  next 
hour,  and  always  the  toast  was  announced  with  like  formality, 
the  speeches  and  the  music,  that  followed,  being  all  that  could 
be  desired.  The  venerable  Archbishop,  whose  wig  gave  him  a 
reverend  air  of  the  last  century,  was  peculiarly  happy  in  replying 
to  the  usual  compliments  to  their  right  reverend  lordships,  who 
all  stood  while  he  spoke  in  their  name.  The  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, his  younger  brother,  who  wore  his  jewel  as  prelate  of  the 
order  of  the  Garter,  made  a  very  line  appearance.  The  Bishop  of 
Oxford  also  wore  his  decoration  as  chancellor  of  that  order;  and  I 
observed  that,  on  such  occasions,  he  always  wore  it  with  the 
rosette  face  displayed,  while,  in  divine  service,  over  his  Episco- 
pal costume,  the  other  lace  was  exhibited;  and  very  appropriate- 
ly, as  it  consists  of  a  pearl  ground,  with  a  simple  cross,  as  in  an 
armorial  shield.  A  trifling  fact!  and  yet  where  one  is  closely 
observing  the  j)eculiarities  of  a  Church,  thus  intimately  working 
in  with  all  the  civil  and  social  institutions  of  a  mighty  empire,  the 
man  is  a  fool  who  would  not  be  willing  to  note  it.  It  is  with  a 
view  to  a  just  delineation  of  these  workings,  as  they  are,  that  I 
often  refer  to  incidents,  of  little  account  in  themselves.  This 
dinner  at  the  Mansion-house  was  especially  noteworthy,  as  con- 
trasted with  the  spirit  of  a  civic  banquet  in  our  own  great  towns ; 
and  I  must  own,  that  if  it  be  desirable  that  the  genius  of  Chris- 
tianity should  interpenetrate,  and  transfuse  all  the  forms  of  civi- 
lized life,  the  contrast  is  not  in  our  favour. 

The  entertainment  concluded  at  a  comparatively  early  hour ; 
and  then  I  drove  to  another,  at  the  residence  of  the  estimable  Miss 
Burdett  Coutts,  in  Piccadilly.  Here,  among  other  celebrated  men, 
in  the  most  brilliant  party  I  ever  saw,  I  first  met  Lord  Nelson ; 
and  yet  again  next  morning,  I  met  him,  before  breakfast,  attend- 
ing the  daily  service  at  Curzon  chapel.  The  week  passed  de- 
lightfully, in  frequent  social  festivities ;  and  I  cannot  but  par- 
ticularize a  pleasant  breakfast  party  at  Mr.  Beresford  Hope's — 
and  one  of  those  admirably  contrived  ones,  at  Sir  Robert  Inglis', 
in  which  everybody  is  so  sure  to  meet  with  everybody  and  every 
thing  that  is  agreeable.  On  another  occasion,  at  his  table,  I 
sat  next  to  Lord  Glenelg,  and  ventured  to  engage  him  in  con- 
versation on  the  subject  of  the  hymns  of  his  brother,  the  late  Sir 
Robert  Grant,  which  are  so  prominent  in  our  Church  Collection, 
alike  for  their   scholarly  and   refined   taste,  and  their   devotional 

11 


242  IMPRESSIONS.  OF  ENGLAND. 

fervor.  He  seemed  pleased  to  learn  of  the  value  set  upon  them 
in  America ;  and  soon  after,  on  returning  to  my  lodgings,  I  found 
upon  my  table,  as  a  present  from  his  lordship,  a  beautiful  copy 
of  his  brother's  poems,  which  I  shall  always  highly  value. 

During  the  week,  I  went  up  to  Eton — the  place  of  places, 
which  I  had  longed  to  see,  and  where  I  was  now  invited  to  visit 
an  enthusiastic  Etonian.  This  excursion  involved,  of  course,  a 
visit  to  Windsor,  whose  imperial  towers  so  magnificently  over- 
shadow the  nest  of  the  choicest  progeny  of  England.  Never  did 
I  receive  such  ideas  of  the  moral  grandeur  of  the  British  Con- 
stitution, as  comprehending  Church,  State  and  Society,  as,  when, 
from  the  fields  of  Eton-  College,  I  surveyed  the  unparalleled 
abode  of  the  British  sovereign ;  and  then,  from  the  terrace  of 
the  castle,  looked  back  upon  that  nursery  of  British  youth;  its 
studious  halls,  its  venerable  chapel,  its  ample  fields  for  sport,  and 
the  crystal  waters  of  the  Thames,  flowing  between ;  fit  emblem 
of  joyous  youth,  passing  on  to  the  burthen  of  the  world  and  the 
ocean  of  eternity. 

When  Gray  looked  from  that  terrace,  over  the  same  scene, 
and  conceived  his  incomparable  Ode,  he  said  all  that  one  ought 
to  say,  and  I  will  attempt  no  more.  One  question,  however, 
which  he  could  only  ask,  it  is  reserved  for  us  to  answer. 

Who  foremost  now  delight  to  cleave, 
With  pliant  arm  thy  glassy  wave,  &c.  T 

Among  the  boys  whom  he  then  sa,w  running  and  swimming,  and 
driving  hoop  and  playing  cricket,  in  the  old  familiar  scene,  was 
he  who  afterwards  conquered  Napoleon.  I  saw  the  name  of 
Wellesley,  with  those  of  Fox  and  others  as  celebrated,  carved 
in  the  college  oak.  There,  too,  were  the  busts  of  Hammond  and 
Pearson,  and  of  Gray  himself.  The  famous  men  of  Eton  seemed 
to  be  around  me  in  legions.  Who  could  not  catch  manliness 
and  might  amid  such  associations?  All  day  I  loitered  about  those 
meads,  and  towards  evening  went  upon  the  Thames  with  a  merry 
party,  to  see  a  juvenile  boat  race,  in  the  Oxford  fashion.  Oh, 
the  sport  of  those  happy  boys !  One  boat  swamped,  but  the  little 
fellows  swam  lustily  to  shore,  and  ran  home  laughing.  It  was  the 
fragrant  hay-time.  Every  prospect — every  breeze  was  pleasing.  As 
the  boats  hurried  by,  and  those  patrician  lads  pulled  away  at  their 
oars,  like  day-labourers,  I  saw  how  the  mind  and  muscles  are, 
alike  developed  at  Eton.  How  can  the  body  be  feeble,  that  is 
reared  with  such  lusty  exercise :  how  can  the  mind  but  conceive 


TOMB   OF   CHARLES  I.  243 

high  thoughts,  that  pursues  its  very  sports  with  "  those  antique 
towers'1  on  one  hand,  and  that  stupendous  castle,  lifting  its 
gigantic  bulk,  and  stretching  its  majestic  walls,  upon  the  other  ! 
The  boys  look  upon  the  right,  and  there  sages,  patriots,  heroes, 
priests  and  princes  have  been  bred :  they  turn  to  the  left,  and 
there  their  Sovereign  lives  in  august  retirement ;  her  imperial 
banner  waves  above  the  keep ;  and  beneath  that  solemn  chapel 
sleeps  the  Royal  Martyr,  and  the  dust  of  mighty  kings,  whose 
names  are  the  material  of  history. 

I  made  the  usual  circuit  of  the  castle ;  but  with  the  details 
which  every  guide-book  furnishes,  I  would  not  fatigue  my 
readers.  For  the  mere  show  of  royal  furniture,  my  mind  could 
find  little  room ;  and  mere  State-apartments,  as  such,  were  even 
a  distasteful  sight.  But  the  noble  architecture,  and  unrivalled 
site  of  the  castle;  its  histories,  and  the  charm  which  association 
gives  to  every  tower  and  window,  and  to  the  whole  scene  with 
which  it  fills  the  eye — these  are  the  sublime  elements  with  which 
Windsor  inspires  the  soul,  and  impregns  the  imagination.  Hoc  fecit 
Wykeham — is  the  inscription  one  catches,  deep  cut  in  the  wall 
of  one  of  the  towers:  an  equivoque  which  the  ambitious  architect 
is  said  to  have  interpreted,  as  implying  that  the  work  was  the  male- 
imj  of  hi)//,  when  asked  by  his  royal  patron  how  he  dared  to 
claim  the  castle  as  a  creation,  and  turn  it  into  a  memorial  of 
himself.  But  who  can  appropriate  Windsor?  The  humble  poet, 
by  a  single  song,  has  taken  its  terrace  to  himself;  and  every 
stone,  and  every  timber,  might  bear  some  appropriate  and  speak- 
ing legend.  I  thought  chiefly  of  Charles  the  First.  How  he 
loved  this  castle !  How  he  would  have  adorned  it,  and  what  a 
home  of  worth  and  genius  he  would  have  made  it,  had  he  not 
fallen  on  evil  times!  That  truly  English  heart  beat  warmly 
here,  a  few  weeks  before  it  ceased  to  beat  forever;  and  along  this 
esplanade  was  borne  his  bleeding  body,  (on  which  fell  the  sym- 
bolic snow  of  a  passing  cloud,)  to  its  last  sublime  repose.  "  So 
went  the  white  king  to  his  rest,"  says  a  quaint  historian :  and 
whan,  at  Evening  Prayer  in  St.  George's  chapel,  I  reflected  that 
his  solemn  relics  were  underneath,  I  felt  a  reviving  affection  for 
his  memory,  almost  like  that  of  personal  love.  The  dying  sun- 
beams gilded  the  carvings  of  the  sanctuary  and  the  banners  of 
the  knights;  I  sat  in  one  of  the  stalls  near  the  altar,  and  observed 
near  me  the  motto — coelum  non  animum  mutant  qui  trans  mare  cur- 
runt.  'When  at  length  the  anthem  swelled  through  the  gorgeous 
chapel — Awake  up  my  glory — I  could  not  but  respond,  inwardly, 


244  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

that  it  was  meet  that  the  glory  of  God  should  be  thus  perpetual* 
ly  uplifted  in  the  palace  of  a  Sovereign,  whom  he  has  so  magnified 
in  the  earth.  And  to  which  of  her  Sovereigns  does  England 
owe  it,  that  she  is  not  now  either  a  cracked  Commonwealth, 
without  God  and  without  government,  or  else  an  iron  despotism, 
in  the  grasp  of  a  successful  usurper  ?  He  who  sleeps  under  that 
chapel  said  that  he  died  ';a  martyr  for  the  people:"  and  so  he  did. 
On  the  principle  by  which  Macaulay  attributes  the  liberties  of 
England  to  her  Cromwells,  we  might  attribute  salvation  to  Judas 
and  Pontius  Pilate. 

In  the  twilight  I  returned  to  Eton,  and  went  and  mused  in 
the  chapel,  after  searching  out  the  slab  that  covers  Sir  Henry 
Wotton.  Then  to  one  of  the  Darned  houses,  (a  tasteful  abode,) 
where  several  oppidans  were  domiciled,  with  whom  I  attended 
family  prayers.  These  oppidans  are  the  day-scholars  of  Eton : 
having  no  rooms  in  the  college,  and  sharing  none  of  its  funds. 
They  are  the  greater  part  of  the  Etonians,  the  sons  of  gentlemen 
and  of  the  nobility,  who,  of  course,  do  not  require  the  scholar- 
ships. After  a  sweet  sleep,  interrupted  by  hearing  the  clock  strike 
and  the  chimes  playing  at  Windsor,  I  rose  to  another  delightful 
day,  and  soon  after  breakfast  attended  the  service  in  the  chapel. 
Five  hundred  and  fifty  boys  were  here  gathered  as  worshippers. 
The  service  was  an  hour  long,  it  being  the  Anniversary  of  the 
Queen's  Accession.  Yet,  for  the  whole  time,  did  those  youths 
maintain  the  decorum  of  gentlemen,  and  worship  with  the  fervor 
of  Christians.  This  reverence  in  worship  is  said  to  have  greatly 
increased  during  late  years  among  the  Eton  boys,  many  of  whom 
are  communicants.  It  speaks  well  for  their  homes,  as  well  as 
for  their  college.     What  promise  for  the  future  of  the  Empire ! 

In  short,  the  boys  of  Eton  seem  to  study  well,  to  play  well,  to 
fare  well,  to  sleep  well,  to  pray  well.  It  was  a  holiday,  and  I 
went  into  the  grounds  to  see  the  cricket  match :  I  visited  the 
library,  the  boys'  rooms,  and  the  halls.  It  is  a  literal  met,  that 
they  still  revere  their  "  Henry's  holy  shade;"  for  pictures  of 
11  the  meek  usurper,"  are  to  be  found  in  almost  every  chamber. 
Last  of  all,  I  went  to  the  river  with  an  Etonian  friend,  stripped, 
and  plunged  in.  I  could  not  leave  that  spot  without  a  swim ; 
and  accordingly,  after  a  struggle  with  father  Thames,  I  emerged, 
and  soon  after  left  Eton  in  a  glow  of  genial  warmth  and  lively 
enthusiasm.  If  ';  manners  maketh  man,"  Eton  cannot  fail  to  be 
the  nursery  of  great  men,  so  long  as  it  is  true  to  itself  and  to  the 
Church  of  God. 


HAMPTON   COURT.  2-ip 

My  next  visit  was  to  Hampton  Court,  for  which  I  found  a 
day  quite  insufficient,  when  reduced  to  the  actual  hours  which 
one  is  permitted  to  devote  to  the  survey  of  such  a  wilderness 
of  natural  and  artificial  charms,  and  to  the  enjoyment  of  their 
historical  interest.  In  the  grounds  of  the  palace,  and  in  Bushy 
Park,  I  found  a  formal  grandeur,  so  entirely  becoming  a  past 
age,  and  so  unusual  in  this,  that  it  impressed  me  with  feelings  of 
melancholy  the  most  profound.  Those  avenues  of  chestnuts  and 
thorns,  those  massive  colonnades  and  dreamy  vistas,  wear  a 
desolate  and  dreary  aspect  of  by-gone  glory,  in  view  of  which 
my  spirits  could  not  rise.  They  seemed  only  a  tit  haunt  for  airy 
echoes,  repeating  an  eternal  Where*  Nothing  later  than  the 
days  of  Queen  Anne  seems  to  belong  to  the  spot.  You  pass 
from  scenes  in  which  you  cannot  but  imagine  Pope  conceiv- 
ing, for  the  first  time,  his  "Rape  of  the  Lock,"  into  a  more  trim 
and  formal  spot,  where  William  of  Orange  seems  Likely  to  appear 
before  you,  with  Bishop  Burnet  buzzing  about  him,  and  a  Dutch 
guard  following  in  the  rear.  Then  again,  James  the  Second, 
with  the  Pope's  nuncio  at  his- elbow,  and  a  coarse  mistress  Haunt- 
ing at  his  side,  might  seem  to  promise  an  immediate  apparition  ; 
when  once  more  the  scene  changes,  and  the  brutal  Cromwell 
is  the  only  character  who  can  be  imagined  in  the  forlorn  area, 
with  a  file  of  musketeers  in  the  back-ground,  descried  through 
a  shadowy  archway.  Here  is  a  lordly  chamber  where  the  medi- 
tative Charles  may  be  conceived  as  startled  by  the  echo  of  their 
tread;  and  here  another,  where  he  embraces,  for  the  last  time, 
his  beloved  children.  There,  at  last,  is  Wolsey'fi  Hall,  and  here 
one  seems  to  behold  old  Blue-beard  leading  forth  Anne  Boleyn 
to  a  dance.  It  still  retains  its  ancient  appearance,  and  is  hung 
with  mouldering  tapestry  and  faded  banners,  although  its  gild- 
ing and  colors  have  been  lately  renewed.  The  ancient  devices 
of  the  Tudors  are  seen  here  and  there,  in  windows  ami  tracery. 
and  the  cardinal's  hat  of  the  proud  churchman,  who  projected 
the  splendors  of  the  place,  still  survives,  in  glass,  whose  brit- 
tle beauty  has  thus  proved  less  perishable  than  Ids  worldly  glory. 

Yet  let  no  one  suppose  the  magnificence  of  Hampton  Court 
to  consist  in  its  architecture.  One  half  is  the  mere  copy  of  St. 
James's,  and  the  other  is  the  stupid  novelty  of  Dutch  William. 
The  whole  together,  with  its  parks,  and  with  its  history,  is  what 
one  feels  and  admires.  I  am  not  sure  but  Royal  Jamie,  with 
his  Bishops  and  his  Puritans  on  either  side  was  as  often 
before  me,  when  traversing   the  pile,    as  anything  else:  and  for 


246  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

him  and  his  Conference  the  place  seems  fit  enough,  having 
something  of  Holyrood  about  it,  and  something  Scholastic,  or 
collegiate,  also.  Queen  Victoria  should  give  it  to  the  Church, 
as  a  college  for  the  poor ,  and  so  add  dignity  to  her  benevolence, 
which  has  already  turned  it  into  a  show  for  the  darling  "  lower 
classes."  I  honour  the  Queen  for  this  condescension  to  the  peo- 
ple; and  yet,  as  I  followed  troops  of  John  Gilpins  through  the 
old  apartments,  and  observed  their  inanimate  stare,  and  booby 
admiration,  it  did  strike  me  that  a  nobler  and  a  larger  benefit 
might  be  conferred  upon  them,  in  a  less  incongruous  way. 
Perhaps  the  happiest  thought  would  be  to  make  it  for  the  clergy 

just  what  Chelsea  is  to  the  army,  and  Greenwich  to  the  naval 
service. 

Among  the  interminable  pictures  of  these  apartments,  some 
most  precious,  and  some  execrable,  the  original  Cartoons  of  Ra- 
faelle  of  course  arrest  the  most  serious  and  reverent  attention. 
There  hang  those  bits  of  paper,  slightly  colored,  but  distinctly 
crayoned  and  chalked,  on  which  his  immortal  genius  exhausted 
its  finest  inspiration !  Who  knows  not,  by  heart,  the  Lame  Man 
at  the  Beautiful  Gate,  St.  Paul  Preaching  at  Athens,  the  Sacri- 
fice at  Lystra,  and  Elymas  struck  blind?  These  are  the  auto- 
graphs of  those  sublime  works;  and  the  Vatican  itself  may  envy 
their  possession  to  Hampton  Court.  But,  beyond  their  antiqua- 
rian interest,  I  must  own  they  have  not  for  me  the  attractiveness 
of  a  beautiful  copy:  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  own  Shakspeare's 
autograph  of  Hamlet,  but  who  would  not  rather  read  and  study 
the  play  in  the  clear  type  and  paper  of  a  modern  edition  ?  2sext 
to  the  Cartoons,  I  found  most  interesting  the  old  historic  canvas 
of  Holbein,  with  its  paste-board  figures;  and  after  that,  the  in- 
tensely significant  series,  which  may  be  picked  out,  from  room  to 
room,  as  displaying  the  spirit  of  English  reigns.  Look  at  that 
glorious  Van  Dyck !  How  the  rich  romance  of  the  Cavaliers 
invests  its  mellow  lights  and  melancholy  shades !  There  the 
voluptuous  age  of  the  Restoration  swims  before  the  eye  in  the 
dreamy  coloring  of  Lely.  See  how  old  Kneller  hardens  every 
tint,  and  stiffens  every  line,  as  he  essays  to  paint  for  William  of 
Orange !  Then  comes  Reynolds,  throwing  a  hectic  brilliancy 
over  the  starched  figures  and  unyielding  features  of  the  Georgian 
age;  and  last  of  all  West,  with  his   brick-dust  Hanoverians,  sur- 

ending  art  itself  a  prisoner  to  the  intolerable  prose  and  incura- 
Dle  beer-drinking  of  his  times!  Here  and  there  I  found  a  Law- 
rence, instinct  with  the  spirit  of  a  happy  revival,  and  giving  pro- 


THE   POET   KEBLE.  247 

mise  of  better  things  to  come.  The  collections  are  also  rich  in 
specimens  of  Flemish  and  Italian  art ;  and  warmed  me  with  a 
desire  hardly  felt  before  in  England,  to  be  off  on  a  contemplated 
tour  of  the  Continent. 

On  my  way  to  Winchester,  I  was  led  to  stop  for  an  hour  at 
Basing-stoke,  by  an  idle  curiosity  to  behold  a  place  in  which 
some  of  my  forefathers  once  resided.  It  gave  me  an  opportunity 
of  visiting  the  tomb  of  the  elder  Warton,  close  by  the  altar  of 
the  parish  Church.  From  Winchester  I  went  by  post,  in  the 
twilight,  over  downs,  and  through  dingles  and  dales,  to  Hursley, 
where  I  entered  the  Church,  and  found  Mr.  Keble  and  his  curate 
celebrating  Evening  Prayers.  I  had  brought  with  me,  from 
Hampton  Court,  a  feeling  of  overpowering  depression,  and  hav- 
ing seen  the  admired  poet  in  circumstances  so  fitting  to  his  char- 
acter as  a  Christian  priest.  I  was  about  to  turn  away,  and  drive 
back  to  Winchester,  when  another  impulse  suddenly  prevailed, 
and  I  ventured  to  present  myself.  I  had  a  preconception  of  his 
piety  and  unworldliness,  that  aftected  me  with  awe,  and  embar- 
rassed me,  in  approaching  him ;  nor  did  anything  in  his  cordiality 
divest  him  of  something  that  restrained  me  in  his  presence. 
Nothing  could  be  more  simple  and  unaffected  than  his  manner; 
and  yet,  in  a  word,  it  was  as  if  George  Herbert  had  risen  from 
his  grave,  and  were  talking  with  me,  in  a  familiar  way.  He 
would  not  hear  of  my  departure,  but  instantly  made  me  his  guest; 
and  thenceforth  I  was  in  a  dream,  from  the  time  that  I  first  saw 
him  till  I  bade  him  farewell.  Nothing  could  be  more  kind  than 
his  hospitality;  nothing  more  delightful  than  the  vision  on  which 
I  opened  my  eyes,  in  the  morning,  and  looked  out  on  his  Church, 
and  the  little  hamlet  contiguous.  Hursley  is  a  true  poet's  home. 
It  is  as  secluded  as  can  well  be  imagined.  England  might  rins: 
with  alarms,  and  Hursley  would  not  hear  it :  and  it  seems  all  the 
more  lonely,  when  one  learns  that  Richard  Cromwell  retired 
hither,  from  a^ throne,  and  after  waxing  old  in  a  quiet  content- 
ment, died  here  in  peace,  and  now  sleeps  beneath  the  tower  of 
the  Church,  just  under  the  vicar's  windows,  with  all  the  cousinry 
of  the  Cromwells  around  him.  A  wise  fool  was  Richard !  But 
to  think  of  a  Cromwell  lying  still,  in  such  a  Church  as  Mr.  Keble 
has  made  this  of  Hursley !  It  has  been  lately  rebuilt,  from  the 
foundation,  all  but  the  tower,  and  its  symbolism  and  decoration  are 
very  rich,  though  far  from  being  overdone.  The  taste  that  has  en- 
shrined itself  in  "the  Christian  Year,"  has  here  taken  shape  in 
stones.    One  of  the  windows,  the  gift  of  friends,  is  an  epitome  of  that 


248  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

delightful  work,  and  displays  the  chief  festivals,  beginning  with 
the  Circumcision.  In  the  minute  adornment  of  the  corbels,  my 
attention  was  called  to  a  beautiful  idea,  which  runs  through  the 
whole  series,  and  which  is  said  to  furnish  the  hint  for  interpret- 
ing the  ornaments  of  older  churches.  Entering  the  south  porch, 
you  observe  the  sculptured  heads  of  the  reigning  sovereign  and 
the  present  bishop  of  the  See ;  and  then,  at  the  door,  those  of 
St.  Helena,  and  St.  Augustine  of  Canterbury.  At  the  chancel 
arch  are  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul ;  and  over  the  altar,  beneath  the 
arch  of  the  East  window,  are  the  figures  of  our  Lord,  and  of  His 
Virgin  Mother.  Thus,  from  the  present,  the  mind  is  carried  on 
to  the  past;  and  from  pastors  and  rulers,  through  doctors  and 
apostles,  up  to  Christ.  The  north  porch  exhibits  the  heads  of 
Ken  and  Andrewes,  of  Wykeham  and  Fox ;  while  the  corbels  of 
the  exterior  arch  of  the  east  window,  bear  those  of  Ambrose  and 
Athanasius.  The  tower  of  the  Church  is  finished  by  a  graceful 
spire,  and  the  gilded  cock  surmounts  the  pile- 


to  tell 


How,  when  Apostles  ceased  to  pray,  they  fell." 

A  grateful  feeling  comes  over  me  at  every  remembrance  of  my 
visit  to  Hursley,  for  I  felt  all  the  time  like  an  intruder,  receiving 
privileges  beyond  my  power  to  repay,  while  my  kind  entertainer 
seemed  as  one  who  desires  no  such  tribute  to  his  genius  as  mere 
tourists  are  wont  to  afford.  An  inferior  character  might  be  flat- 
tered to  find  himself  sought  out,  of  every  traveller  ;  but  all  the 
heartfelt  kindness  of  the  vicar  of  Hursley  was  no  disguise,  to 
me,  of  a  spirit  that  loves  the  Paradise  of  a  blessed  seclusion  from 
the  world,  and  which  nothing  but  benevolence  can  prompt  to 
welcome  the  stranger,  that  desires  to  see  him  face  to  face,  and  to 
thank  him  for  the  soothing  influences  and  inspiring  harmonies  of 
his  perennial  songs. 

At  "Winchester,  there  are  three  great  sights,  besides  several  of 
minor  interest :  the  hospital  of  St.  Cross,  the  college  of  Wyke 
ham,  and  the  cathedral.  Let  me  first  speak  of  the  school,  a  sort 
of  Eton,  but  less  aristocratic,  and  certainly  far  less  attractive  in 
its  site  and  circumstances.  It  glories,  nevertheless,  in  its  founder 
and  in  his  fellow-architect,  Waynflete,  and  in  many  eminent 
names  in  Church  and  State.  Enough  that  it  bred  Bishop  Ken  ; 
and  that  his  initials  may  be  found,  cut  with  his  boyish  hand,  in 
the  stone  of  the  cloisters.  In  the  chapel,  what  chiefly  arrests  the 
eye,  is  the  gorgeous  window,  with  its  genealogy  of  the  Saviour, 


ST.    CE0S3   HOSPITAL.  249 

displayed  in  the  richest  colours  and  designs.  The  library,  within 
the  area  of  the  cloisters,  was  an  ancient  chantry,  designed  for 
masses  for  the  dead  in  the  surrounding  graves:  and.  I  confess,  I 
wish  it  were  still. a  chapel,  in  which  prayers  might  be  offered,  and 
the  dead  in  Christ  commemorated,  although  not  as  aforetime. 
"Without  particularly  describing  the  hall,  or  refectory,  I  must  not 
omit  to  mention  the  time-honoured  Ilircocervus,  or  picture  of  "  the 
Trusty-servant."  which  hangs  near  the  kitchen,  and  which  em- 
blematically sets  forth  those  virtues  in  domestics,  of  which  we 
Americans  know  nothing.  It  is  a  figure,  part  man.  part  porker, 
part  deer,  and  part  donkey ;  with  a  padlock  on  his  mouth,  and 
various  other  symbols  in  his  hands  and  about  his  person,  the 
whole  signifying  a  most  valuable  character.  This  for  the  college 
menials;  but  the  boys  also  are  made  to  remember  by  it,  that,  for 
a  time.  "  they  differ  nothing  from  a  servant,  though  they  be  lords 
of  all."  In  the  lofty  school-room,  they  are  further  taught,  hi 
symbols,  the  Medo-Persian  character  of  the  laws  of  the  school. 
A  mitre  and  crosier  are  displayed  as  the  rewards  of  scholarship 
and  fidelity;  an  ink-horn  and  a  sword  intimate  that  a  blotting- 
out  and  cutting-off  await  the  incorrigible;  while  a  scourge  sug- 
gests the  only  remedy,  known  to  the  school,  short  of  the  final 
penalty.  Under  these  salutary  emblems,  the  Wykeham  boys  of 
many  generations  have  read  and  pondered  the  legends,  which 
explain  them  severally,  thus — Aut  di<ce — aid  discede — manei 
tertia  cadi!  Tables  of  the  college  law-  are  set  up  with  like  pub- 
licity, after  the  manner  of  the  Decemvirs,  It  is  evident  that  the 
Wykehamists  are  in  no  danger  of  forgetting  that  "manners  mak- 
eth  men." 

Through  a  pleasant  meadow,  and  by  a  clear  stream.  I  made 
my  way  to  the  hospital  of  St.  Cross,  founded  by  Bishop  De  Blois 
seven  hundred  years  ago  :  yet.  in  conformity  with  the  will  of  that 
prelate,  when  I  knocked  at  the  porter  s  lodge.  I  was  duly  pre- 
sented with  a  slice  of  bread  and  a  horn  of  wholesome  beer,  which 
I  was  jnst  then  quite  thankful  to  receive,  and  to  despatch  in 
honour  of  his  memory.  To  such  a  dole  is  everybody  entitled 
who  applies  in  the  same  manner:  and  a  larger  charity  is.  at  stated 
times,  distributed  at  the  same  place,  to  the  neighbouring  poor. 
The  establishment  to  which  I  was  admitted,  after  such  an  intro- 
duction, is  one  of  the  most  interesting  objects  I  ever  saw.  Its 
old  courts  and  halts  reminded  me  not  a  little  of  Haddon ;  a  pair 
of  leathern  pitchers  were  shown  me,  as  vessels  which  once  held 
ale  for  Cardinal  Beaufort :  but  its  chapel  is  indeed  a  relic  of  sur- 

11* 


250  IMPRESSIONS    OF  ENGLAND. 

passing  interest.  It  is  built  in  cathedral  form,  and  combines  both 
Saxon  and  Norman  details,  with  the  first  formal  step  towards  the 
pointed  arch.  From  the  intersection  of  two  of  its  circular 
arches,  according  to  some,  sprang  Salisbury  cathedral — the  whole 
idea,  from  crypt  to  the  vanishing  point  of  its  spire.  And  from 
this  last  remnant  of  conventual  life,  why  should  not  the  true 
idea  of  such  establishments  be  in  a  similar  manner  revived 
throughout  Christendom?  Here  live  some  dozen  remarkable 
men,  who  else  would  have  no  home  on  this  side  heaven.  Each 
wears  a  flowing  garment  of  black,  with  a  silver  cross  shining  on 
its  cape  :  they  call  one  another  brother ;  they  study  to  be  quiet ; 
prayer  is  their  only  business ;  and  order  and  neatness  reign 
throughout  the  holy  place.  No  one  can  visit  St,  Cross  without 
praying  that  the  Church  of  England  may  be  blessed  with  hun- 
dreds more  of  just  such  homes  for  aged  poverty,  and  that  wher- 
ever wealth  abounds  in  her  communion,  it  may  be  devoted  to 
erecting  them. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 


Winchester  Cathedra! — Relics— *-Xetley  Abler). 

In  Winchester  Cathedral  I  attended  Morning  Service,  on  the 
feast  of  St.  John  Baptist.  1  am  sorry  to  say  that  here,  too,  the 
service  is  ill-performed ;  not  that  there  is  nothing  to  enjoy  in 
it,  even  now :  but  that  when  one  reflects  what  ought  to  be  the 
daily  worship  of  such  a  cathedral,  and  what  it  might  be,  if  the 
laws  of  the  cathedral  were  enforced,  and  if  a  holy  zeal  were  more 
characteristic  of  its  dignitaries :  there-  is  nothing  to  say  but — 
shame  on  things  as  they  are.  When  will  the  conscience  of  Eng- 
land clamour  against  such  disgraceful  poverty  of  cathedral  wor- 
ship ;  and  when  will  the  brain  of  England  wake  up  to  a  sense  of 
what  these  churches  might  do  for  the  nation,  if  rightly  served 
and  administered  ?  The  feature  of  this  cathedral  which  most 
impresses  the  stranger,  is  its  far-sweeping  length  of  nave  and 
choir,  with  the  light  or  shadowy  vistas,  through  columns  and 
arches,  which  seem  to  multiply  its  interminable  effect.  In  its  de- 
tails it  is  also  very  rich,  and  several  of  its  monuments  are  of  un- 
equalled magnificence.  Here  lies,  in  his  superb  chantry,  William 
of  Wykeham,  whose  mitred  and  crosiered  effigy,  stretched  at  full 
length  upon  his  sepulchre,  seems  sublimely  conscious  of  repose, 
after  a  life  of  vast  achievement,  in  rearing  schools  for  youth,  and 
colleges  for  the  learned,  and  palaces  for  princes,  and  hospitals  for 
the  poor,  and  temples  for  God.  Bishop  Wayneflete  is  not  less 
superbly  sepulchred  in  a  small  chapel,  or  chantry,  of  elegant  de- 
sign, beautifully  enriched,  and  gilded,  and  kept  in  complete 
repair  by  the  Fellows  of  his  College,  at  Oxford.  His  effigy  bears, 
in  clasped  hands,  a  heart,  which  he  thus  uplifts  to  heaven,  as  it 
were,  in  fervent  response  to  the  Sursum  Corda  of  the  Liturgy. 
Over  against  this  chantry  rises,  in  twin  magnificence,  that  of  Car- 


252  IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

dinal  Beaufort :  but  in  spite  of  its  placid  air,  beneath  those 
solemn  tabernacles  one  looks  upon  his  figure  with  painful  remem- 
brances of  the  death-scene  which  Shakspeare  has  so  powerfully 
depicted.  "  He  dies  and  makes  no  sign,"  is  the  awful  thought 
that  haunts  the  mind,  as  one  lingers  about  this  perpetual  death- 
bed ;  and  yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  conclude  the  inspection  with  the 
more  charitable  ejaculation  of  King  Henry — 

"  Forbear  to  judge,  for  we  are  sinners  all. 
Close  up  his  eyes,  and  draw  the  curtain  close, 
And  let  us  all  to  meditation  " 

But  Bishop  Fox's  monument  and  chapel  are  even  more  affect- 
ing than  any  of  these,  from  its  peculiar  combination  of  ingenious 
sepulchral  devices,  with  elaborate  graces  of  architecture.  It  is 
overpowering,  after  examining  the  splendours  of  its  canopy  and 
fretwork,  to  descend  to  the  little  grated  recess  beneath,  where  the 
subject  of  all  this  monumental  glory  is  represented  in  the  humilia- 
tion of  death  and  the  grave.  It  seems  like  looking  into  Hades. 
One  sees  a  ghastly  figure  of  emaciation  and  decay ;  the  eyes  lying 
deep  in  their  sockets,  in  a  frightful  stage  of  decomposition,  and 
the  whole  frame  exhibiting  the  power  of  death  over  the  flesh  of 
the  Saints,  but  suggesting  that,  while  patiently  submitting  to  the 
worst  that  worms  can  do,  it  rests  in  hope  and  speaks  out  of  the 
very  grave — "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth."  In  a  corres- 
ponding chapel,  but  of  low  architectural  character,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  choir,  lies  the  cruel  Stephen  Gardiner,  the  unfortu- 
nate son  of  an  adulterous  Bishop,  and  the  fitting  purveyor  of  fire 
and  faggot  to  the  Bloody  Mary.  The  nuptials  of  this  sulphurous 
sovereign  with  Philip  of  Spain,  were  celebrated,  by-the-way,  in 
the  Lady-Chapel  of  this  cathedral.  Strange  that  the  same 
Church  which  entombs  her  favourite  Gardiner,  should  also  con 
tain  the  sepulchre  of  that  bloated  Hanoverian,  the  notorious 
Hoadly,  surrounded  with  such  emblems  as  the  cap  of  liberty,  and 
the  Magna  Charta.  in  close  juxta-position  with  the  crosier  and 
the  Holy  Bible  !  The  character  of  the  Bishop  would  have  been 
better  symbolized  by  some  ingenious  device  illustrative  of  the 
truth,  that — "  the  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his  mas- 
ter's  crib." 

One  cannot  but  hope  that  the  superb  altar-screen  of  this  cathe 
dral  will  be  more  fully  restored  than  at  present,  and  that  a  pro- 
per altar,  or  Holy  Table,  will  be  added,  such  as  may  illustrate 
the  true  spirit  of  the  Anglican  Liturgy,  and  the  richness  of  its 


EELICS.  253 

Orthodoxy.  A  poverty-stricken  altar  is  surely  no  recommenda- 
tion of  reformed  religion  ;  and  were  I  only  an  eeclesiologist,  it 
would  delight  me  to  show  that  such  a  Holy  Table  as  even  the 
Court  of  Arches  could  not  presume  to  desecrate,  might  be  erected, 
in  strict  conformity  with  the  Anglican  ritual,  and  in  perfect  keep- 
ing with  such  a  choir,  that  should  put  to  shame  the  tawdry 
Babylonianism  of  the  Romish  altars  on  the  Continent. 

While  speaking  of  the  choir,  let  me  not  forget  the  little  chests 
which  surmount  the  screens  of  the  sanctuary.  AVho  can  look  at 
them  without  emotion,  when  informed  that  they  contain  all  that 
remains  of  princes  and  priests,  and  of  mighty  kings,  and  fair 
ladies,  their  queens.  There  are  the  remains  of  Canute  and  of 
Rufus,  of  "Queen  Emma  and  the  Bishops  Wina  and  Alwyn." 
On  one  may  be  read  the  inscription — "  King  Edmund,  whom  this 
chest  contains,  oh.  Christ  receive."  Another,  marking  the  era 
of  the  Rebellion,  with  a  striking  trophy  of  its  infamy,  bears  the 
legend — "In  this  chest,  in  the  year  1661,  were  deposited  the 
confused  relics  of  princes  and  prelates,  which  had  been  scattered 
by  sacrilegious  barbarism,  in  the  year  1G42."  The  havoc  made 
by  t lie  Puritans  in  this  holy  place  is  everywhere  painfully  visible. 
The  beautiful  chapel,  in  the  rear  of  the  choir,  is  tilled  with  frag- 
ments of  carved  w<  rk  and  mutilated  sculpture,  which  bear  silent 
witness  against  the  "axes  and  hammers"  of  the  Puritans:  while 
many  a  corresponding  "stone  out  of  the  wall"  seems  to  cry 
shame,  and  "  many  a  beam  out  of  the  timber,  to  answer  it."  The 
noble  figure  of  a  knight,  in  bronze,  upon  an  altar  tomb,  bears 
the  marks  of  their  indiscriminate  violence,  in  deep  cuts  or  hacks 
made  by  a  sword,  apparently  in  a  spirit  of  wanton  brutality.  It 
was  refreshing  to  turn  from  such  Vandal  tokens,  to  the  simple 
memorial  of  one  who  lived  in  the  age  that  produced  them,  but 
whose  character  furnishes  altogether  as  striking  a  contrast  to  the 
turbulent  spirit  of  his  times,  as  the  still  waters  and  green  pastures 
of  his  native  land  afford  to  the  elements  of  the  Lapland  storm. 
In  Prior  Silkstede's  chapel,  I  paid  a  parting  reverence  to  the  slab 
that  covers  the  honourable  remains  of  Izaak  "Walton.  Verily, 
he  served  God  in  his  generation :  for  when  they  knew  not  how 
to  sport  at  all,  he  spake  of  fishes,  and  when  again  they  sported 
like  fools,  he  spake  of  men. 

After  a  walk  through  sweet  meads,  and  by  a  clear  stream,  I 
climbed  St.  Katherine's  hill,  and  took  a  full  view  of  the  city  and 
its  suburbs;  and  soon  after  left  for . Salisbury.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
feast  day,  that  day  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  on  which  I  saw  two 


254  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

such  cathedrals  as  Winchester  and  Salisbury :  the  former,  charac- 
terized by  all  the  grandeur  of  the  long-drawn  aisle — the  latter, 
by  all  the  glory  of  the  culminating  spire.  The  emotions  inspired 
by  the  one  were  those  of  a  well-chanted  service ;  but  I  found  the 
effect  of  the  other  like  that  of  a  rapturous  anthem.  I  speak  now 
of  the  external  views  only :  and  certainly  my  first  view  of  Salis- 
bury, that  fine  midsummer  evening,  was  as  a  vision  of  Paradise. 
The  heavenward  shooting  of  all  its  parts,  and  the  consummate 
unity  of  effect  with  which  they  all  blend  in  the  sky-piercing 
pyramid,  around  which  they  are  grouped,  exceeds  all  that  I  ever 
saw  of  the  kind.  I  only  grudged  to  the  levels  of  Salisbury, 
what  ought  rather  to  crown  such  a  sovereign  hill  as  that  of 
Lincoln. 

This  Church  is  familiar  to  the  architect  as  the  full-blown  flower 
of  his  art.  It  stands  in  a  lonely  retirement  from  the  town,  and, 
sitting  down  in  its  precincts  to  enjoy  the  Anew,  I  found  myself 
uninterrupted  in  my  meditations  for  a  long,  delightful  hour,  the 
only  intruders  being  some  nibbling  sheep  that  pastured  under  the 
walls,  and  the  chattering  rooks,  that  seemed  to  amuse  themselves 
in  making  a  spiral  flight  round  the  spire,  and  so  winding  up  from 
its  base  to  its  tapering  point.  Beautiful  for  its  figure  and  its 
decoration,  is  that  spire,  and  so  is  the  incomparable  tower,  from 
which  it  springs  like  a  plant ;  and  wherever  the  eye  rests  in  wan- 
dering over  the  splendours  of  its  surrounding  walls,  buttresses, 
pinnacle,  arches,  and  gables,  all  is  in  keeping,  and  one  spirit 
seems  to  animate  the  pile.  I  am  sorry  to  confess  disappointment 
as  to  the  interior.  It  is  so  neglected,  and  has  been  so  much  im- 
paired. The  clustered  columns  that  support  the  tower  have 
yielded  to  its  weight,  and  are  visibly  bowed  and  sprung  from  their 
piers.  The  chapter-house  exhibits  a  shameful  neglect,  and  its 
beautiful  decorations  have  suffered  from  violent  abuse.  The  pre- 
sent Bishop  is  exerting  himself  effectually,  however,  in  the  work 
of  restoration :  and  one  cannot  but  hope  that  the  next  generation 
will  see  this  cathedral  the  seat  of  a  living  and  working  system  of 
diocesan  zeal,  and  the  centre  of  Gospel  life  and  influence  to  the 
surrounding  rural  district,  and  its  many  needy  souls. 

A  series  of  altar  tombs,  in  the  nave  and  aisles,  gives  a  peculiar 
effect  to  the  spaces  between  the  columns,  and  to  the  arches  above. 
Among  them  is  the  tomb  of  an  unfortunate  nobleman,  who  was 
hanged  for  murder  some  three  hundred  years  since,  and  over 
which  was,  for  a  long  time,  suspended  the  silken  noose  which 
suspended  him.     The  tomb  of  a  boy-bishop,  marked  by  a  little 


AN  AMERICAN  VICAR.  255 

figure  in  pontificals,  is  a  curious  relic  of  mediaeval  mummeries ; 
and  not  less  so  is  the  sepulchre  of  Bishop  Roger,  a  Norman,  who 
first  attracted  the  admiration  of  King  Henry  I.,  by  the  galloping 
pace  at  which  he  contrived  to  get  through  a  mass.  '  I  paid  a  more 
reverent  tribute  to  the  plain  slab  that  covers  Bishop  Jewell,  who, 
with  all  his  faults,  deserves  the  rather  to  be  reverenced,  because 
this  age  has  bred  a  set  of  men,  who  seem  to  take  pleasure  in 
spitting  upon  his  memory,  while  defiling,  with  equal  insolence, 
the  face  of  their  Mother  the  Church. 

As  evening  came  on,  I  took  a  post-chaise  for  Amesbury  and 
Figheldean,  where  I  had  been  invited  to  visit  that  interesting  per- 
sonage, Mr.  Henry  Caswall,  a  clergyman  who  has  done,  perhaps, 
more  than  any  other  man,  to  make  knoAvn,  in  England,  the  his- 
tory and  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  American  Church.  He 
is  by  birth  an  Englishman  ;  he  is  nevertheless  in  American  orders, 
and  thus,  in  his  person,  unites  the  Church  in  which  he  ministers 
to  that  in  which  he  received  his  commission.  The  interest  with 
which  I  now  sought  his  acquaintance  may  therefore  be  imagined. 
After  a  pleasing  drive  over  the  downs,  and  a  rapid  inspection  of 
the  curious  remains  of  "  Old  Sarum,"  I  found  myself  in  a  small, 
but  picturesque  hamlet,  in  which  almost  every  house  was  thatch- 
ed, clustered  at  the  foot  of  a  knoll,  on  which  rose  the  parish 
Church  of  "Filedean" — for  so  it  is  pronounced.  In  a  few 
minutes  I  was  Mr.  Caswall' s  guest,  and,  for  the  first  time  since 
leaving  home,  I  was  able  to  talk  over  American  subjects  with  one 
who  entirely  understood  them.  After  a  cordial  reception  by  his 
amiable  family,  a  long  and  cheerful  review  of  American  matters 
closed  this  very  happy  and  memorable  day. 

I  was  much  entertained  to  observe  in  Mr.  Caswall  many  of 
those  traits  of  enterprise  and  efficiency  which  seemed  to  me  to  be 
developments  of  what  we  should  call  Western  life,  though  the 
English  would  consider  them  simply  American.  That  he  is  natu- 
rally enterprising  and  ingenious  to  a  great  degree,  I  am  sure  no 
one  can  doubt :  it  was  probably  this  characteristic  which  origi- 
nally led  him,  though  a  nephew  of  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  to 
seek  the  wilds  of  Ohio,  and  to  become  a  Missionary  under  Bishop 
Chase.  But  who,  that  had  not  been  disciplined  to  invention  in 
our  Missionary  field,  could  exhibit,  as  he  does,  the  fruits  of  this 
faculty,  in  an  exuberant  degree,  amid  all  the  comforts  of  an  Eng- 
lish vicarage !  A  river  runs  near  his  Church- ;  he  has  boats  upon 
it  of  his  own  construction,  and  one  has  paddle-wheels.  In  the 
tower  of  his  ancient  Church,  there  ticks  a  clock  of  very  curious 


256  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

mechanism :  it  is  entirely  of  his  own  manufacture ;  he  cast  one 
of  its  wheels  in  Kentucky,  and  bought  another  in  New-York  ! 
So,  too,  he  has  lately  built  an  organ,  which  discourses  excellent 
music  ;  and  his  other  ingenuities  are  innumerable,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  very  able  works,  in  which  he  always  contrives  to  tell  what 
is  worth  knowing,  and  to  say  what  is  just  to  the  point. 

In  his  neighbourhood  is  Milstone,  the  birth-place  of  Addison, 
to  which  he  conducted  me  with  obliging  enthusiasm.  The  native 
nest  is  a  modest  parsonage,  hard  by  the  Church,  which  is  one  of 
the  very  humblest  of  its  kind,  and  has  no  tower.  I  peeped  in  at 
the  windows,  and  saw  where  Addison  was  baptized.  Our  walk 
was  extended  to  Durrington,  where  a  fine  Church  was  re-appear- 
ing on  the  foundations  of  a  very  ancient  one.  In  the  afternoon 
of  the  same  day,  this  kind  friend  took  me  to  Amesbury,  where 
the  remains  of  a  Roman  encampment  are  still  visible  in  some 
trenches  and  hillocks,  which  were  made  by  the  soldiers  of  Vespa- 
sian. Thence  we  went  to  see  the  grounds  of  the  once  celebrated 
Duchess  of  Queensbury,  and  a  grotto,  which  was  formerly  fre- 
quented by  the  poet  Gay.  We  passed  an  old  lodge  upon  this 
estate,  which  gave  shelter,  during  the  Reign  of  Terror,  to  a  com- 
munity of  French  nuns.  Next,  we  drove  to  the  famous  Stone- 
henge,  on  Salisbury  plain.  To  me,  these  gigantic  remains  of 
Druid  superstition  were  of  surpassing  interest:  and  while  my 
friend  explained  to  me  the  various  theories  of  their  origin  and 
use,  I  found  the  actual  inspection  of  this  old  scene  of  horrible 
idolatry,  the  rather  fascinating,  because  from  its  still  existing 
altar,  one  can  just  descry  over  the  hills  in  the  horizon,  the  needle- 
like point  of  the  spire  of  Salisbury.  I  never  felt  before,  that 
England  had  once  been  Pagan,  and  that  the  Gospel  had  conquer- 
ed it,  and  made  it  all  that  Salisbury  is,  as  compared  with  this 
accursed  temple  of  the  idol  Bel.  The  Chaldean  Shepherds  seem 
indeed  to  have  shared  their  superstition  with  those  of  Salisbury. 

We  drove  over  the  plains,  so  called,  to  visit  Wilton,  and  my 
attention  was  continually  attracted  by  the  shepherds  and  their 
flocks,  not  unlike,  in  some  respects,  to  those  who  are  seen  on  the 
Roman  Campagna.  Their  dogs,  who  do  the  work  of  men,  in 
searching  stragglers,  and  in  driving  and  tending  the  sheep,  are  in- 
teresting objects.  Of  course  the  story  of  Hannah  More  came 
often  to  mind  as  we  encountered  these  sights.  But  other  inter- 
esting associations  were  excited  by  the  evident  remains  of  old 
Roman  roads,  which  traversed  these  pasturages  in  ancient  times. 
There  were,  besides,  some  strange  circular  hollows,  in  form  like 


KETLEY  ABBEY.  257 

saucers,  of  undoubted  Roman  origin,  which  lay  on  either  side  of 
our  way  as  we  drove  over  a  sort  of  ridge-road.  As  we  left  the 
downs,  Ave  had  a  fine  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  and  des- 
cried Trafalgar  House,  the  seat  of  Lord  Xelson,  at  a  distance. 
AVe  passed  a  noble  estate  of  the  Pembroke  family ;  and  visited 
the  magnificent  Church,  at  TVilton,  reared  by  Mr.  Sydney  Her- 
bert, at  his  personal  expense  of  sixty  thousand  pounds.  It  is  a 
superb  Anglican  basilica,  a  curiosity  in  England,  as  departing 
from  the  historical  architecture  of  the  realm,  and  closely  resem- 
bling the  finest  churches  of  Italy.  It  is,  however,  a  blessing  to 
the  place,  and  is  largely  frequented  by  the  poor.  From  this 
splendid  Church  we  drove  to  a  still  more  interesting  one,  although 
a  church  as  remarkably  poor  as  this  is  costly.  The  smallest  and 
plainest  little  Church  I  had  yet  seen  in  England  was  reached  at 
last,  and  reverently  entered.  A  few  pews,  a  chancel  and  Holy 
Table  of  starving  plainness,  and  a  pulpit  to  match  !  This  was 
holy  Herbert's  Church — this  was  Bemerton !  I  climbed,  and 
then  crawled  into  the  little  box  of  a  belfry,  to  see  the  bell  which 
he  tolled  when  he  was  instituted ;  and  then  I  went  outside,  and 
looked  in  at  the  window,  through  which  he  was  descried  tarrying 
long  at  prayer,  on  his  face,  before  the  altar.  How  a  good  life 
can  glorify  what  otherwise  would  be  utterly  without  attractions  ! 
Even  in  America,  I  have  seldom  seen  a  church  look  so  mean  as 
that  at  Bemerton :  yet  few  places  have  I  ever  visited  with  more 
of  awe  and  affection  ;  and  verily,  all  the  embellishments  of  the 
Sistine  Chapel  failed  to  produce  in  me  such  a  sense  of  the 
beauty  of  holiness,  as  did  the  sight  of  the  humble  altar,  at  which 
ministered  before  the  Lord  two  hundred  years  ago,  that  man  of 
God,  George  Herbert. 

Reaching  Southampton  early  in  the  evening  of  a  mid-summer 
day,  I  had  time  enough,  during  the  long  twilight,  for  an  excur- 
sion to  Netley  Abbey,  which  I  made  in  a  boat,  rowed  by  an  old 
waterman  and  his  son,  a  lad  of  twelve  years.  The  descending 
sun  threw  its  radiance  over  the  bright  Southampton  water,  as 
we  left  the  pier,  and  a  pathway  of  burnished  gold  seemed  to  lie 
in  our  wake,  as  we  glided  rapidly  along.  The  boy  volunteered 
to  sing  a  little  hymn  which  he  had  learned  at  Sunday  School,  and, 
accordingly  the  praise  of  God  was  sweetly  wafted  by  the  sunset 
breezes  that  played  about  us ;  and  if  I  have  heard  more  romantic 
strains  on  the  Venetian  waters,  since  then,  from  the  gondoliers, 
I  can  testify  that  they  wrere  no  sweeter,  and  not  half  so  inspiring 
to  a  devout  disposition.     This  beautiful  bay  was  filled  with  many 


258  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

sails,  and  the  neighbouring  shores,  on  every  side,  were  highly- 
picturesque.  We  reached  the  "  glad  nook,"  whose  corrupted 
Latin  name  survives,  in  Netley,  just  in  time  to  disturb  the  com- 
posures of  the  rook  and  owl,  as  they  were  congratulating  them- 
selves on  the  close  of  the  day,  and  settling  for  the  night,  the 
one  in  his  dormitory,  and  the  other  in  his  watch-tower.  There 
was  enough  of  day  to  display  the  entire  beauty  of  the  ruins, 
and  enough  of  melancholy,  night  to  give  them  a  mysterious 
solemnity.  Here  I  stumbled  over  piles  of  rubbish,  overgrown 
with  grass  and  wall-flowers,  among  which  slender  trees  have 
sprouted  side  by  side  with  the  branching  columns  of  the  archi- 
tect ;  while  through  graceful  tracery,  and  broken  vaulting,  I 
looked  up  into  the  deep  heaven,  and  descried  the  first  stars  as 
they  began  to  twinkle  in  its  unfathomable  azure.  I  fancied  I 
could  hear  the  gentle  sigh  of  the  waters  on  the  pebbled  beach, 
which  spreads  hard  by  beneath  its  walls,  and  the  charms  of  the 
spot,  as  a  home  of  religion,  became  very  vividly  impressed  on  my 
mind  as  the  soft  susurrations  appeared  to  bewail  the  loss  of 
responsive  vesper-songs  from  the  consecrated  pile.  It  was  a 
bewitching  hour  for  such  a  visit :  and  when  I  went  down  into 
crypts,  and  gloomy  vaults,  which  were  barely  light  enough  to 
enable  me  to  feel  my  way,  and  to  descry  the  surrounding  outlines 
of  Gothic  ruin,  through  loop-holes  and  doorways  festooned  with 
luxuriant  ivy,  all  that  I  ever  read  of  romance,  in  its  wildest 
forms,  seemed  conjured  about  me.  It  was  quite  dark  as  we 
returned,  but  the  waters  glittered  with  tremulous  reflections  of 
many  lights  on  the  shore ;  and  our  little  pilot  sung — "  There's  a 
good  time  coming,  boys  !"  with  a  sort  of  pathetic  thrill,  which 
made  me  love  him,  and  prayed  that  he  might  live  to  see  the  good 
time  which  he  so  feelingly  promised  himself.  I  conversed  with 
him  freely,  and  found  that  he  had  been  taught  of  God,  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Church. 

Next  mornino-  I  took  the  steamer  to  Cowes.  The  sail  down 
the  sea  of  Southampton  was  very  pleasant,  and  my  fancy  was  as 
busy  as  my  sight,  as  we  skirted  along  the  shore,  from  which  the 
"  New  Forest*'  stretches  away  towards  Dorsetshire,  cover- 
ing many  a  square  mile  of  merry  England  with  woods  as  dense 
as  those  of  our  own  primeval  wilds.  How  exciting  to  reflection, 
the  view  of  a  wood  which,  for  so  many  ages,  has  perpetuated 
the  violence  of  William  the  Norman,  and  the  tragic  memory  of 
Rufus  !  A  gay  little  French  woman,  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
history,  however,  and  who  seemed  to  take  me  for  an  Englishman, 


OSBORNE   HOUSE.  259 

expressed  herself,  in  her  sprightly  vernacular,  in  terms  of  raptu- 
rous delight,  with  reference  to  the  scenery  alone.  She  was  over- 
whelmed  with  the  luxurious  beauty  of  England,  as  contracted 
with  the  penury  which  stares  you  in  the  face  for  leagues  and 
leagues  in  France,  in  places  where  nature  only  needs  a  little  aid 
from  cultivation  to  assume  a  face  as  cheerful  as  those  of  its 
inhabitants.  When  we  passed  Calshot  Castle,  and  had  the  Isle 
of  Wight  in  full  view.  I  was  nearly  as  much  inspired  as  herself. 
The  admirable  service  which  the  island  renders  to  the  British 
fleet,  became  apparent  as  we  looked  towards  those  ~  leviathans 
afloat."  at  Spithead ;  but  I  turned  with  greater  interest  towards 
the  Solan't,  and  tried  hard  to  descry  that  lonely  spur  of  Hamp- 
shire, on  which  stands  Hurst  Castle,  the  scene  of  one  of  the  most 
thrilling  episodes  in  the  closing  history  of  Charles  the  First.  As 
we  approached  Cowes,  it  reminded  me  of  Staten  Island,  off 
New- fork,  and.  at  first,  I  hardly  knew  to  what  I  owed  the  asso- 
ciation, though  the  similarity  of  scene  is  considerable;  but 
when  a  second  glance  showed  me  a  noble  ship,  of  unmistakeable 
American  proportions,  with  the  American  ensign  fluttering  at 
her  peak,  just  under  the  lee  of  the  island,  I  felt  the  home-feeling 
overpoweringly,  and  could  have  shouted  my  salutation  to  my 
country's  oak,  with  full  lungs  and  a  fuller  heart !  I  pointed  it 
out  to  the  French  woman,  and  told  her  of  my  country,  and  then 
I  was  saluted  with  her  voluble  congratulations,  in  such  terms  as 
showed  that  she,  at  least,  thought  it  a  land  of  which  one  has  a 
right  to  be  proud. 

Osborne  House  is  a  prominent  object,  on  the  rising  bank  of  the 
Me  Una,  as  one  drives  from  Cowes  toward  Newport,  and  I  look- 
ed with  no  little  interest  at  the  beautiful  home  in  which  Victoria 
and  Albert  live  the  life  of  private  people,  without  sacrificing  the 
dignity  which  they  owe  it  to  the  nation  to  sustain.  It  delights 
me  to  Bay  that  they  have  the  reputation  of  cultivating,  there, 
every  domestic  virtue;  and  I  was  charmed  with  a  popular  print, 
which  one  sees  in  the  neighbourhood,  representing  the  family  at 
Osborne,  on  their  knees,  with  the  prince  reading  prayers  among 
his  children. 

I  was  fortunate  in  visiting  this  gem  of  the  sea.  during  the 
most  pleasant  part  of  the  year.  The  hay-makers  were  at  work, 
and  everywhere  a  delicious  fragrance  tilled  the  air.  Our  drive 
from  Newport  to  Chale  afforded  many  pleasing  views,  and  my 
first  view  of  the  open  sea  was  enchanting.  The  channel  was  as 
smooth  as  glass,  and  the  vessels  that  lay  upon  it  scarcely  seemed 


260  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

to  move.  From  the  celebrated  Black -gang  Chine,  the  view  of 
the  chalky  coast  of  Dorset,  the  curving  shore  of  Freshwater- 
bay,  and  the  bristling  file  of  cliffs,  called  ':  the  Needles,"  was 
truly  superb.  Then  wheeling  round  the  bold  head  of  St.  Cathe- 
rine's Downs,  we  entered  that  sweet  realm  of  Faerie,  called  the 
Undereliff,  where  a  palisade  of  rock  rises  on  one  side  of  the 
road,  and  the  sea-beach  lies  below,  the  exposure  being  such  as  to 
receive  the  breath  and  the  sunshine  of  the  genial  south,  with  all 
the  vigorous  breezes  of  the  ocean.  Here  the  roses  bloom  all  the 
year  in  the  open  air,  and  Nature  has  made  it  all  that  Nature 
could,  by  a  combination  of  her  charms.  Indeed,  the  circuit  of 
the  coast,  from  here  to  Yaverland,  seen,  at  various  hoifrs  of  the 
day,  in  all  the  shifting  effects  of  the  sun  and  shadows,  affords  a 
panorama  of  incomparable  attractions :  here  a  dense  grove,  and 
there  a  deep  cleft  in  the  rocks,  intercepting  the  sea-view,  and 
then,  again,  a  fresh  apocalypse  of  beauty,  breaking  upon  the  sight, 
at  some  unexpected  turn  of  the  way.  The  murmur  of  ocean 
comes  to  the  ear  just  as  the  eye  catches  the  numberless  smile3  of 
its  surface,  and  a  glimpse  through  green  foliage  will  often  dis- 
cover a  brilliant  perspective,  in  which  the  blue  sea,  and  the  gray 
rocks,  and  the  fading  horizon,  are  enlivened  by  a  stretching  show 
of  snowy  canvas,  reflecting  the  golden  light  of  the  sun,  sail  after 
sail,  the  tiniest  glittering  far  off  on  the  verge  of  the  expanse,  like 
a  star  in  the  twilight.  * 

The  Tom-thumb  Church  of  St.  Lawrence,  with  walls  six  feet 
high,  and  all  the  rest  in  proportion ;  the  beauties  of  Ventnor, 
and  Bonchurch,  and  Shanklin  Chine ;  in  short,  the  entire  scenery 
of  the  Undereliff  is  enchanting,  and  bewitches  one  with  a  desire 
to  build  a  tabernacle  there,  and  to  rest  from  one's  labours.  At 
Brading,  I  paused,  in  honour  of  good  Legh  Richmond,  and 
visited  the  grave  of  his  "  Young  Cottager."  Ryde  is  a  pleasant 
place  enough,  something  like  our  Staten  Island  towns  in  situa- 
tion, and  in  many  other  particulars.  But  my  drive  from  Ryde 
to  Newport,  through  Wooton  and  Fern-hill,  disclosed  many  of 
those  inland  scenes  of  rural  beauty,  for  which  the  Isle  of  Wight 
is  unsurpassed.  Pledges,  thick  and  green,  on  each  side  of  the 
road,  with  wild  woodbine  twisting  all  over  them,  and  loading  the 
air  with  perfumes,  "were  the  appropriate  frame-work  of  rich  fields, 
waving  with  golden  crops,  fragrant  with  new-mown  hay,  or  filled 
with  pasturing  cattle,  while  here  and  there  they  enclosed  a  little 
garden  full  of  flowers,  or  were  broken  by  the  prettiest  cottages  in 
aT  the   world,   neatly  whitewashed,   and   trimly  thatched,   and 


CARISBROOKE.  261 

planted  about  with  white  and  red  roses,  clambering  over  the  win- 
dows, mounting  to  the  eaves,  and  even  straggling  among  the  straw, 
to  the  ridge  of  the  roof.  Again  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  towers 
of  Osborne ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  Queen  herself  might 
be  willing  to  exchange  them  for  these  charming  little  snuggeries 
of  her  contented  peasantry. 

But  I  came  to  the  Isle,  above  all,  to  see  Carisbrooke  Castle, 
and  thither  I  went,  after  a  night  at  Newport.  It  was  a  bright, 
unclouded  morning,  and  I  went  alone.  Over  a  little  bridge 
you  pass  to  the  great  doorway,  between  two  massive  towers, 
hung  with  verdure,  and  pierced  with  cross-shaped  arrow-slits. 
All  was  as  quiet  and  as  beautiful  as  if  no  history  brooded  over 
the  spot,  with  strange  and  melancholy  witchery.  The  twitter 
of  a  bird,  the  nodding  of  a  wild  rose  in  the  morning  breeze, 
the  sparkling  of  the  dew  upon  the  leaves,  all  seemed  to  share 
something  of  the  mysterious  spell.  'How  still,  and  yet  how 
speaking,  thought  I,  this  scene  of  mighty  personal  struggles, 
of  a  crisis  of  ages,  of  overwhelming  sorrows  !  Is  it  not  con- 
scious of  its  own  dignity  1  Poor  Charles!  after  seeing  thy  brief 
wrestling  with  adversity,  it  has  lapsed  into  desolation,  and  lets 
the  world  have  its  own  way.  while  it  alone  wears  enduring  tokens 
of  sympathy  with  thee!' 

I  saw  the  window  where  the  King  made  one  last  effort  to  be 
free.  Sir  Thomas  Herbert's  portraiture  rose  all  before  me,  and 
a  thousand  busy  thoughts,  which  any  one  may  imagine,  but 
which  language  fails  to  arrest,  much  more  to  convey.  Ascending 
to  the  keep,  surveying  the  undulating  scenery,  and  loitering  here 
and  there  among  the  ruins,  the  past,  the  entrancing  past  floated 
around  me  like  an  atmosphere ;  and  I  felt  how  much  more  power- 
ful than  romance,  is  the  charm  of  historic  fact,  when  invested 
with  living  interest,  by  associations  of  religion,  by  connections 
with  surviving  realities,  and  by  the  perpetual  attraction  and  moral 
sublimity  of  an  example  of  greatness  and  worth,,  tried  in  the  fur- 
nace of  affliction. 

Nor  did  I  forget  that  lily  among  thorns,  the  little  princess 
who  died  in  this  doleful  prison,  of  a  broken  heart,  alter  be- 
wailing her  father's  murder  a  single  year.  The  sweet  child, 
Elizabeth !  what  a  thought  it  was  to  imagine  her  moaning  her 
young  life  away,  amid  these  gloomy  walls,  surrounded  only  by 
the  butchers  of  her  adored  parent,  mocking  her  woes !  Among 
tales  of  childhood's  sorrows,  there  have  been  few  like  hers. 

Everybody  has  heard  of  "  a  pebble  in  Carisbrooke  well."     I 


262  IMPRESSIONS    OP    ENGLAND. 

tried  the  usual  experiments,  and  saw  a  lamp  let  down  in  it,  three 
hundred  feet,  and  then  drank  of  the  water,  drawn  by  donkey- 
power,  with  all  the  sublime  emotions  conceivable  on  such  an 
occasion.  There  is  a  story  that  the  well  was  originally  of  Roman 
construction,  and  that  the  Romans  had  a  fortress  here,  which  it 
first  supplied.  At  any  rate,  it  is  a  very  good  well,  and  no  doubt 
administered  many  a  refreshing  draught  to  tne  royal  prisoners,  to 
whom  "a  cup  of  cold  water"  was  well  nigh  all  that  the  charity 
of  the  place  afforded. 

Crossing  from  the  Isle  of  Wight  to  Portsmouth,  I  had  a  fine 
sight,  in  the  incessant  broadsides  which  were  fired  by  her  Majes- 
ty's ship,  the  "  Vengeance,"  anchored  at  Spithead,  apparently  for 
exercise,  or  sport.  The  gallant  ship,  the  blazing  port-holes,  the 
rolling  clouds  of  smoke,  and  the  reverberating  thunders,  made  our 
transit,  from  shore  to  shore,  one  of  exciting  interest.  The  "  Royal 
George"  went  down  just  in  that  anchorage,  and  there  she  lies 
now.  I  paid  a  visit  to  the  "  Victory,"  in  the  harbour  of  Ports- 
mouth, after  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  board  the  beautiful  yacht, 
in  which  the  Queen  makes  her  progresses  by  sea.  On  the  deck 
of  the  "  Victory"  fell  the  idolized  Nelson :  a  small  brass  plate 
marks  the  spot.  After  looking  at  this,  and  trying  to  reproduce 
the  scene,  I  descended  to  the  cock-pit,  and  surveyed  the  dark  and 
gloomy  cell  in  which  he  breathed  his  last,  reclining  against  a  huge 
rib  of  his  ship.  Poor  soul !  If  he  had  but  served  God  as  he  served 
his  King,  there  would  have  been  a  glory  in  that  death,  beyond 
that  of  "  victory,  or  Westminster  Abbey."  After  a  rapid  survey 
of  the  dock-yards,  I  made  my  way,  by  rail,  to  Chichester. 

A  fine  market-cross  distinguished  this  city,  and  is  kept  in  ex 
cellent  repair.  But  the  great  attraction  is,  of  course,  its  cathe- 
dral, a  mutilated  but  still  noble  structure,  which  I  found  well 
worthy  of  a  visit.  It  exhibits  some  praiseworthy  restorations, 
and  I  was  pleased  to  find  that  its  nave  is  frequently  used  for  ser- 
mons. It  has  many  tombs  and  monuments  of  note,  and  many  of 
its  architectural  peculiarities  are  attractive.  Relics  and  antiqui- 
ties connected  with  the  history  of  the  See  are  shown,  and  it  is 
painful  to  find,  in  one  apartment,  mysterious  evidence  of  the  ill 
uses  to  which  a  church  could  be  put,  before  the  Reformation.  In 
the  Bishop's  Consistory  Court,  there  is  a  secret  door  in  the  wain- 
scot looking  like  a  mere  panel.  This  moves  with  a  slide,  and 
covers  a  massive  gate,  with  a  lock,  which  opens  into  a  strong 
room,  once  used  as  a  prison.  It  was  no  doubt  the  scene  of  suffer- 
ing for  conscience  sake,  in  the  days  of  the  Lollards. 


COLLINS.  263 

After  having  so  lately  described  other*  cathedrals  of  much 
greater  interest,  I  will  only  add,  concerning  this,  that  I  was  much 
pleased  to  note  among  its  monuments  the  modern  one,  by  Flax- 
man,  commemorative  of  the  poet  Collins.  Architecturally,  in- 
deed, it  is  out  of  place :  but  the  unfortunate  bard  was  a  native  of 
the  cathedral  precinct,  and  the  Christian  artist  has  seized  upon 
that  incident  in  his  unhappy  life,  which  attests  the  consolations 
which  highest  genius  may  derive  from  the  same  source  that  makes 
childhood  wise  unto  salvation.  "  I  have  but  one  book,"  said  he 
to  a  visitor,  shortly  before  he  died,  as  he  held  up  the  New  Testa- 
ment, and  added — "  the  best." 

My  next  stage  was  Brighton,  where  I  enjoyed  a  sea-bath,  and 
a  brief  survey  of  that  beautiful  creation  of  fashion.  But  my 
chief  enjoyment  here  was  received  in  the  delightful  hospitalities 
of  a  distinguished  family,  which  I  shall  always  remember  with 
sincere  regard,  as  embracing  some  of  the  most  agreeable  persons 
I  have  ever  met.  Among  the  varieties  of  English  character 
which  have  most  charmed  me,  those  to  which  I  now  gratefully 
refer,  are  often  reviving  in  memory,  as  affording  a  true  ideal  of 
domestic  happiness,  enlivened  by  sentiment,  and  hallowed  by  a 
spirit  of  devotion. 

I  was  forced  to  make  a  very  rapid  survey  of  the  southern  coast, 
passing  by  the  old  abbey  at  Lewes  and  the  castle  at  Pevensey; 
and  pausing  scarcely  an  hour  upon  the  noble  beach  at  Hastings, 
and  amid  the  ruins  of  its  castle.  With  greater  regret  I  was 
forced  to  omit  visits  to  Battle  Abbey,  to  I  lever  Castle,  and  to 
Pcnshurst,  to  the  last-named  of  which  I  had  an  especial  drawing, 
for  the  sake  of  Hammond  and  Sir  Philip  Sydney.  I  was  engaged 
to  spend  St.  Peter's  day  at  Canterbury,  and  to  be  the  anniversary 
preacher,  a  privilege  to  which  I  was  willing  to  sacrifice  many 
other  pleasures.  Passing,  therefore,  through  some  pretty  Kentish 
scenery,  and  pausing  to  visit  the  old  monuments  at  Ashford,  I 
made  my  way,  before  nightfall,  to  the  city  of  pilgrimages,  and  was 
received  as  a  guest  within  the  Warden's  lodge  at  St.  Augustine's. 
An  anniversary  dinner  was  served  in  the  hall,  at  which  several 
distinguished  personages  were  present  ;  and  afterwards  I  saw  the 
ceremony  of  admitting  a  scholar  to  the  foundation.  I  then  visit- 
ed the  room  over  the  gateway,  which  lodged  King  Charles  I.,  on 
his  bridal  tour ;  and,  after  service  in  the  chapel,  retired  to  my 
room  in  this  holy  and  religious  home  of  the  Church's  children. 


CHAPTER    XXX 


St.  Augustine's  Cliapel — St.  Martin's — Addison — Thompson. 

In  the  chapel  pf  St.  Augustine  we  kept  St.  Peter's  Day,  and 
commemorated  the  benefactors  of  the  college.  It  was  a  cheering 
spectacle  to  behold  around  me  those  missionary  youths,  devoted  to 
the  noblest  warfare  which  can  enlist  the  energies  of  man,  and 
destined,  as  I  could  not  but  pray,  to  see  and  to  achieve  great 
things  in  the  extension  of  the  kingdom  of  Immanuel  upon  earth. 
And  how  inspiring  to  them  the  associations  with  which  they  are 
surrounded  !  On  the  very  spot  which  they  inhabit,  the  Mission- 
ary Augustine  preached  the  Gospel  to  their  ancestors,  when 
Anglo-Saxons  were  but  pagans ,  and  now  they  go  forth  from  it, 
as  from  the  very  centre  of  Christian  civilization,  to  bear  the  pre- 
cious seed  to  the  uttermost  isles  of  the  sea,  so  that  what  England 
is,  Australia  may  become. 

In  the  afternoon,  I  preached  in  old  St.  Martin's,  which  probably 
is  the  very  oldest  Church  in  England.  Its  name  of  St.  Martin 
is  probably  a  second  designation,  given  to  it  when  it  was  fitted  up 
for  the  use  of  good  Queen  Bertha,  before  the  conversion  of  her 
husband,  Ethelbert.  Such  a  Church  is  spoken  of  by  Bede,  as 
having  been  built  before  the  Romans  left  the  island  ;  and  as 
Roman  bricks,  of  unquestionable  antiquity,  are  a  large  portion 
of  the  material  of  this  Church,  it  is  on  this  and  other  accounts 
generally  dated  from  A.  D.  187,  and  supposed  to  have  been  origi- 
nally erected  by  some  good  Cornelius  of  the  Roman  army.  Be 
that  as  it  may,  Queen  Bertha's  tomb  is  in  the  choir  to  this  day : 
and  the  ancient  font  is  with  good  reason  supposed  to  be  that  in 
which  Ethelbert  was  baptized.  What  hoary  antiquity,  what 
venerable  and  august  dignity  invest  this  sacred  place !  It  is  of 
humble  dimensions,  and  both  without  and  within  bears  the  marks 


A  HIGH  ALTAR.  265 

of  its  primitive  character,  in  its  plainness  and  simplicity,  but  it 
is  kept  in  good  repair,  and  regarded  with  the  affectionate  reve- 
rence which  is  so  becoming.  The  yews  and  the  ivy  which  adorn 
it  with  their  shade,  are,  apparently,  almost  as  old  as  the  Church  : 
and  the  church-yard  gently  slopes  from  the  church-door  to  the 
road-side,  giving  a  beautiful  elevation  to  the  old  pile,  and  present- 
ing a  highly  picturesque  effect  to  the  passer-by. 

But  how  shall  I  describe  the  cathedral,  whose  huge  bulk  every- 
where lifts  itself  into  sight  above  this  curious  and  reverend  old 
town !  The  metropolis  of  the  Anglo-Catholic  communion  is 
graced  by  an  Archiepiscopal  church,  every  way  worthy  of  the 
majestic  relations  which  it  bears  to  Christendom.  There  it  stands, 
like  the  Church  of  England  itself,  worthy  to  be  "  the  joy  of  the 
whole  earth,"  and  not  more  magnificent  and  imposing,  than  har- 
moniously chastened  throughout  with  an  air  of  sovereign  splen- 
dour subdued  by  solemn  propriety.  There  is  about  it,  as  com- 
pared with  other  English  cathedrals,  a  sort  of  aggregated  look, 
strikingly  significant  of  the  massively  conglomerate  body  which 
the  Anglican  Church  has  already  become,  and  something  of 
which  has  characterized  her  from  the  beginning.  The  double 
cross,  in  form  of  which  the  cathedral  is  built,  very  appropriately, 
in  view  of  its  primacy,  heightens  this  effect  :  and  the  result  is  that 
its  prestige  is  well  sustained,  when  the  pilgrim  sees  before  him  the 
head  church  of  his  religion.  A  blessing  on  its  ancient  towers, 
and  may  it  more  and  more  become  "  dear  for  its  reputation 
through  the  world." 

On  Sunday  and  the  day  following,  when  I  attended  service  in 
the  cathedral,  I  had  the  best  opportunities  for  surveying  it  through- 
out, under  the  attentive  guidance  of  Lord  Charles  Thymic  and 
the  estimable  Archdeacon  Harrison.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  the 
service  here  was  very  effectively  celebrated,  though  a  larger  force 
would  have  been  more  worthy  of  the  place  and  of  the  work. 
The  organ  is  quite  concealed  in  the  triforia,  and  its  sound  is  some- 
what peculiar  as  it  issues  from  those  high  cells,  in  perfect  unison 
with  "  the  full-voiced  choir  below."  As  to  the  effect  of  the  cathe- 
dral upon  the  eye,  I  remember  no  interior,  save  that  of  Milan, 
which  can  compare  with  it  for  impressiveness  ;  and  if,  from  general 
effect,  we  descend  to  details,  this  cathedral  is  vastly  the  more 
solemn  and  magnificent  of  the  twain.  Its  altar,  for  example,  is 
one  of  the  most  lofty  in  Christendom,  the  choir  rising  from  the 
nave  by  a  long  flight  of  steps,  and  the  altar  being  elevated,  in  like 
manner,  very  high   above  the   level   of  the  choir.     The  several 

12 


266  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

ascents  and  various  levels  of  the  Church,  instead  of  too  much 
breaking  its  whole,  seem  to  add  an  air  of  vastness  and  sublimity 
to  the  general  design.  But  when  one  surveys,  now  the  nave,  and 
looks  upwards  into  the  tower,  and  along  the  far-sweeping  vaultings, 
and  now  the  choir  and  its  intersecting  arches  and  vistas ;  or  de- 
scends to  that  varied  undercroft,  with  its  chapels  and  sepulchres, 
and  twisted  columns,  and  French  inscriptions ;  or  mounts  to  make 
circuit  of  the  tombs  and  chapels,  pausing  within  "  Becket's  Crown" 
to  admire  its  unique  and  anomalous  elegance  ;  and  then  makes  his 
way  through  the  cloisters  into  the  chapter-house,  and  finally  es- 
capes into  outer  day,  and  looks  up  again  at  the  vast  pile,  through 
which  he  has  been  wondering  and  wandering  so  long — the  impres- 
sion left  upon  the  mind  is  one  of  astonishment,  like  that  of  the 
Queen  of  Sheba,  when  "  there  was  no  more  spirit  in  her."  I  had 
seen  the  spot  where  Becket  fell  beneath  the  stout  blows  of  his 
murderers — the  marble  floor  which  received  his  blood  still  ex- 
hibiting a  speaking  memorial  of  the  tragedy,  in  a  small  mutilation 
which  was  made  in  sawing  out  the  bloody  block,  to  be  carried  to 
Borne  as  a  relic ;  I  had  seen  the  remains  of  the  same  prelate's 
shrine,  .where  his  sovereign  submitted  to  flagellation,  where 
princes  presented  so  many  costly  oblations,  and  which  once  glittered 
with  such  gorgeous  wealth  before  the  eye  of  Erasmus ;  I  had  seen 
the  stone-stairs  leading  up  to  his  sepulchre,  worn  away  by  the 
thousands  of  devotees,  among  which  I  reckoned  those  of  certain 
Canterburie  pilgrims,  accompanied  by  Dan  Chaucer  himself;  I 
had  seen  the  tomb,  of  the  Black  Prince,  with  his  lion-like  efligy — 
over  which  dangles  his  surcoat,  a  thing  of  tatters,  but  which  no 
one  can  behold  without  emotion,  when  he  reflects  that  it  once 
encased  the  beating  heart  and  chivalrous  breast  of  that  gallant 
Plantagenet.  I  had  beheld  the  recumbent  effigies  of  the  usurp- 
ing Lancaster,  Henry  IV.,  and  his  Queen,  Joan  of  Navarre;  and 
I  had  surveyed  the  memorial  works,  or  sepulchres,  of  the  primates 
of  all  England,  from  Lanfranc  to  Chichely ;  but  after  all,  I  bore 
away  no  remembrance  more  pleasing  than  that  of  the  monumen- 
tal window  and  tomb  of  the  late  Archbishop  Howley,  commemo- 
rating, as  they  do,  a  most  worthy  prelate,  and  marking  the  great 
epoch  of  a  revival  of  theology,  and  of  practical  faith,  throughout 
the  Church  of  England.  This  tomb  is  surmounted  by  the  recum- 
bent effigy  of  the  Bishop,  and  presents  a  most  graceful  specimen 
of  reviving  art.  He  is  habitecl  in  his  sacred  vestments,  to  which 
the  addition  of  the  cope  gives  completeness  and  effect ;  and  as  the 
Archbishop  wore  that  vestment  at  the  coronation  of  Queen  Vic- 


THE   ANTHEM.  267 

toria,  there  was  reality  to  justify  its  use.  In  short,  1  was  glad  to 
see  that  even  in  the  cathedral  of  Canterbury,  and  without  ser- 
vility in. copying  the  antique,  our  own  age  can  erect  a  monument, 
and  surmount  it  with  a  figure,  literally  true  to  its  original,  which 
is  worthy  of  the  place  as  a  work  of  art;  and  which,  if  it  is  more 
modest  than  the  mediaeval  sepulchres  which  surround  it,  is  still  in 
perfect  keeping  with  all  their  splendour ;  while  it  tells  the  simple 
story  of  a  primacy  the  most  brilliant  in  its  contemporary  achieve- 
ments of  any  that  has  ever  blessed  the  Church  of  England,  since 
the  days  of  Augustine.  It  will  be  forever  celebrated  as  distin- 
guished by  the  rapid  extension  of  Anglican  Catholicity  in  all 
quarters  of  the  globe,  and  by  a  holy  effort  for  the  restoration  of 
unity  to  the  Church  of  God. 

The  city  of  Canterbury  abounds  in  quaint  nooks  and  corners — 
old  gates,  and  fragments  of  wall ; — and,  in  particular,  is  marked 
by  an  ancient  mound,  or  artificial  hill,  called  the  Dane  John, 
which  is  much  reverenced  as  a  Avork  of  the  aboriginal  Britons. 
Some  will  have  it  that  it  was  raised  against  the  Danes,  as  its 
name  appears  to  import ;  but  it  strikes  me  as  something  of  reli- 
gious origin,  and  not  unlike  those  mysterious  tumuli  which  abound 
in  our  own  AVestcrn  country.  If  truly  British,  indeed,  who 
knows  but  some  primeval  Madoc  built  both  it  and  them  .' 

It  was  my  fortune  to  hear  in  the  cathedral,  as  an  anthem,  that 
chef  oTccuvre  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  which  must  have  been 
written  in  some  fit  of  poetical  inspiration,  vouchsafed  to  them 
for  those  two  verses  only — 

"  The  Lord  descended  from  above 
And  bowed  the  heavens  higb,"  &c. 

The  extract  has  been  set  to  noble  music,  but  who  was  the  com- 
poser I  cannot  say.  After  a  visit  to  the  Deanery,  and  a  gratifying 
survey  of  its  long  gallery  of  ecclesiastical  portraits,  I  was  shown 
into  the  surrounding  gardens,  and  conducted  to  almost  every  part 
of  the  cathedral  precincts,  and  finally  dismissed  by  an  ancient 
gate,  which,  owing  to  some  tradition,  retains  the  romantic  name 
of  Queen  Bertha's  postern.  But  let  me  not  conclude  my  remem- 
brances of  Canterbury  without  a  warm  tribute  to  the  delightful 
society  to  which  I  was  introduced  at  St.  Augustine's,  and  among 
the  dignitaries  of  the  cathedral.  The  esteemed  Warden,  who  re- 
ceived me  as  his  guest,  and  who  so  kindly  entertained  me,  deserves 
my  most  grateful  acknowledgments. 

On  the  morning  of  my  departure,  rising  very  early,  and  accom- 


268  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

parried  by  a  friend,  to  whom  I  had  become  warmly  attached  since 
my  arrival  in  England,  I  drove  out,  through  pleasant  Kentish 
scenery,  to  the  parsonage  of  Borne,  which  is  from  Canterbury 
three  miles  distant,  according  to  Izaak  Walton ;  following  the 
example  of  the  many,  who  once  did  so,  to  see  the  face  of  the 
venerable  and  judicious  Richard  Hooker,  though  I  could  only 
hope  to  see  his  tomb,  and  the  church  in  which  he  ministered.  I 
shall  never  forget  that  morning  drive,  nor  the  reverence  with 
which,  at  length,  I  beheld  Hooker's  own  church,  and  the  parson- 
age in  which  he  so  loved  to  see  God's  blessings  spring  out  of  the 
earth  about  his  door.  I  entered  the  holy  place,  and  there  was 
his  bust,  coloured  by  the  old  artist  to  represent  life :  and  looking 
at  it,  through  my  hands,  so  as  to  shut  out  the  surrounding  parts 
of  the  monument,  I  was  verily  able  to  conceive  that  I  beheld 
good  Master  Hooker  in  his  pulpit,  about  to  speak.  It  imprinted 
a  live  idea  of  the  man  upon  my  memory,  which  I  would  not  lose 
for  many  costlier  things.  The  place  called  up  many  of  those 
graphic  anecdotes  which  his  quaint  biographer  has  chronicled 
concerning  him  ;  but  I  was  especially  reminded  of  that  scene  be- 
tween the  Puritan  intruders  and  the  old  parish  clerk,  who,  when 
they  sat  down  on  joint  stools  to  partake  their  communion,  said, 
as  he  resigned  the  keys  with  a  heavy  heart,  "  Take  the  keys  and 
lock  me  out,  for  all  men  will  say  Master  Hooker  was  a  good  man 
and  a  good  scholar,  and  I  am  sure  it  was  not  used  to  be  thus  in 
his  days."  I  could  not  but  remember,  moreover,  that  within 
those  walls  Hooker  had  passed  many  a  lonely  Ember-day,  locked 
up  for  fasting  and  prayer;  and  '  who  knows'  said  I  to  myself, 
'  but  Ave  are  even  now  realizing  the  blessed  answers  to  those  inter- 
cessions for  the  Church,  in  all  parts  of  the  world'?' 

On  my  way  up  to  London,  I  paid  a  visit  at  S Park,  the 

residence  of  a  young  country  squire,  who  had  lately  taken  his 
degrees  at  Cambridge,  married,  and  settled  here  on  his  hereditary 
estate.  The  life  of  an  English  gentleman,  of  this  degree,  has 
always  struck  me,  as  nearly  the  most  perfect  realization  of  sublu- 
nary bliss,  which  the  world  affords.  Nor  did  the  glimpse  which 
I  thus  gained  of  such  a  life,  in  the  least  disappoint  me.  The 
young  mistress  of  the  mansion,  in  the  momentary  absence  of  her 
husband,  kindly  made  herself  my  guide,  over  a  portion  of  the 
estate,  in  search  of  him.  No  ceremony — and  no  attempt  to  ap- 
pear fine.  In  a  moment  she  was  ready,  and  as  she  led  me  hither 
and  thither,  she  was  not  above  taking  me  to  her  poultry-yard, 
and  her  dairy,  and  showing  me  her  amateur  farming.    We  entered 


ENGLISH   SERVANTS.  269 

a  fine  field  of  standing  corn — the  golden  wheat  of  Kent — and 
as  we  passed  through  the  narrow  foot-path,  my  fair  guide  in- 
formed me  'twas  their  way  to  parish  church,  and  just  then 
I  descried  the  church  itself,  at  a  little  distance,  in  its  modest 
beauty,  at  the  foot  of  a  hill.  A  lark  flew  up.  and  she  pointed  at 
the  little  fellow,  as  he  mounted  the  skies,  and  poured  out  his 
song,  reminding  me  of  a  remark  I  had  made  to  her,  that  we  have 
no  sky-larks  in  America.  She  entered  a  pretty  farm-house,  where 
a  decent-looking  family  were  just  taking  their  tea:  they  treated 
her  as  they  would  have  done  a  descended  angel,  while  she,  in  the 
prettiest  tones,  inquired  whether  they  "  had  seen  their'  Master 
thereabout,"  and  so.  thanking  them,  departed.  We  soon  encoun- 
tered the  young  "  Master,"  who  gave  me  a  kind  welcome,  and 
showed  me  the  further  attractions  of  the  estate.  Then  home, 
and  soon  to  dinner,  and  after  that,  a  pleasant  summer  evening 
sauntering  about  the  doors  and  under  the  old  trees  of  the  park. 
where  the  rooks  kept  up  a  great  cawing  in  consequence  of  our  in- 
trusion. In  many  respect-,  the  place  did  not  dilfer  much  from 
many  American  residences  that  I  have  visited  ;  but  in  others  it 
did.  and  chiefly  in  the  entire  ease  and  nature  with  which  every- 
body, from  the  squire  to  his  humblest  menial,  nay.  even  the  house- 
dog, fitted  his  place,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  We  have  no  ser- 
vants in  America,  though  we  have  slaves.  All  white-complexioned 
people  scorn  to  obey.  Hence  the  misery  and  the  stiffness  of 
housekeeping,  and  the  deplorable  multiplication  of  those  vulgar 
establishments  called  "  fashionable  hotels."  Let  me  add,  concern- 
ing this  happy  abode  of  unostentatious  English  comfort  and  re- 
finement, that  what  especially  pleased  me  was  the  devout  appear- 
ance of  the  household  servants  at  family  prayers.  They  all 
joined  in  the  devotions,  and  each  had  a  Prayer-book  in  hand, 
which  appeared  to  be  a  cherished  companion  of  their  daily 
routine.  Happy  the  household  where  all  the  inmates,  from 
the  least  to  the  greatest,  have  one  Lord,  one  faith,  and  one 
baptism. 

The  ancient  castle  and  the  cathedral  of  Rochester  were  taken 
in  my  way  up  to  London;  but,  interesting  as  they  are  in  them- 
selves, I  might  fail  to  make  them  attractive,  in  a  description  so 
vague  as  I  should  be  obliged  to  give  them,  and  so,  with  a  passing 
tribute  to  their  merits,  as  religious  and  feudal  monuments  of  the 
past,  I  must  again  return  to  London. 

In  frequent  visits  to  Westminster  Abbey,  I  had  become  familiar 
with  every  portion  of  it,  including  cloisters,  chapter-house,  and 


270  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

library.  In  the  library,  by  the  politeness  of  one  of  the  digni- 
taries, I  was  favoured  with  a  minute  inspection  of  some  of  its 
most  precious  historical  deposites.  Such  were  the  dies  from 
which  were  struck  the  coins  of  Henry  Fourth,  and  many  suc- 
ceeding sovereigns,  rude  works  of  art,  depending  upon  blows  of 
the  hammer  to  produce  their  impression.  In  the  chapter-house 
is  the  original  Domesday-book,  and  many  other  historical  docu- 
ments. I  was  shown  the  instrument  by  which  Edward  I.  was 
authorized,  by  twenty-three  competitors,  to  settle  the  Crown  of 
Scotland  upon  one  of  their  number.  The  seal  of  Bruce's  father 
is  very  distinctly  visible.  Here  are  Henry  VII.'s  veiy  minute 
instructions  to  his  commissioners  to  examine  the  personal  claims 
to  his  choice,  of  a  young  princess,  whom  he  proposed  to  marry, 
with  their  not  over-gallant  reports.  A  superbly  decorated 
instrument,  dated  at  Amiens,  August  18,  1527,  and  signed  by 
Henry  VIII.,  and  Francis,  was  also  a  great  curiosity.  It  has  a 
golden  seal,  with  the  legend — Plarima  servantur  fccdere,  cuncta 
Jide.  Among  other  parchments,  one  signed  by  Mary,  as  Queen 
of  France,  with  her  husband  Francis  II.,  was  interesting.  I 
saw  also  the  stamp,  used  by  Henry  VIII.,  to  affix  his  signature 
to  parchments,  in  his  dying  days;  a  prayer-book  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's;  and  a  fine  old  Missal  of  1380,  from  which  some  zeal- 
ous reformer  had  erased  the  service  for  Becket's-day,  and  several 
prayers  for  the  Pope. 

But  all  these  were  inferior  in  interest  to  the  tombs  and 
chapels  of  the  Abbey.  Many  of  the  monuments  are  in  wretched 
taste,  and  a  general  banishment  to  the  cloisters,  of  those  which 
are  not  in  keeping  with  the  architecture  of  the  church,  would  be 
a  great  improvement.  The  residue  should  then  be  repaired  and 
decorated.  But  even  as  they  are,  they  present  a  most  interest- 
ing epitome  of  history,  and  a  most  affecting  commentary  on  the 
vanity  of  worldly  grandeur  and  greatness.  With  Henry  VII's. 
chapel,  and  its  royal  sepulchres,  I  was  greatly  impressed,  and 
the  near  neighbourhood  of  the  tombs  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth, 
struck  me  as  forcibly  as  if  I  had  never  heard  of  the  strange 
proximity,  in  which  they,  who  once  could  scarcely  live  in  the 
same  world,  here  mingle  their  dust  with  the  same  span  of  earth, 
and  side  by  side,  await  the  judgment.  Oh,  what  pomp  of  sepul- 
ture attests  the  universal  reign  of  death  in  this  ancient  temple  ! 
Here,  in  the  chapel  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  stands  the  throne, 
which  has  been  the  glory  and  the  shame  of  so  many  who  lie 
sleeping  around  it.     The  rough  old  stone,  inserted  in  its  base,  is 


ADDISON.  271 

the  Scottish  palladium ;  and  the  old  monkish  fable  makes  it  one 
of  the  stones  of  Jacob's  pillow,  at  Bethel.  The  monuments  of 
Edward  III.,  and  Queen  Philippa.  and  that  of  Henry  V.,  com- 
manded my  especial  attention.  Above  the  latter,  are  preserved 
the  saddle,  shield,  and  helmet,  which  he  used  at  Agincourt.  The 
body  of  Edward  I.  rests  beneath  a  plain  altar-tomb.  In  the 
centre  of  the  chapel  is  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward :  and  it  is  as 
near  as  possible  to  these  relics  of  their  predecessors,  that  English 
sovereigns  are  still  anointed  and  crowned  in  the  adjoining  choir. 
At  such  times,  if  these  silent  tombs  are  startled  by  the  shouts  of 
the  multitude  that  cry — Long  live  the  King,  how  much  more 
forcibly  they  must  speak  to  him,  in  their  mute  expressiveness, 
reminding  him  of  his  nothingness,  and  calling  him  to  prepare  for 
a  long  home  in  the  dust  ! 

To  the  reflections  of  Addison  and  of  Irving,  in  this  consecrated 
pile,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  add  my  own.  The  sweet  interpreter 
of  the  moral  of  this  wonderful  place,  sleeps  appropriately  under  its 
tutelage,  and  few  are  the  graves  within  it,  which  more  affect  a 
kindred  heart.  To  see  the  grave  of  Addison,  which  was  lately 
marked  by  a  small  white  stone,  in'  the  pavement  of  one  of  the 
chapels,  suggests  a  kind  of  postscript  to  his  own  musings ;  and, 
as  I  stood,  thoughtfully,  over  it,  I  seemed  to  hear  his  voice,  out 
of  the  sepulchre,  confirming  his  living  words.  I  thought,  more- 
over, how  much  has  been  done,  since  his  day,  to  add  to  the  in- 
terest of  the  holy  place — even  in  addition  to  his  own  grave ! 
How  many  tombs  L  saw,  which  he  did  not — his  own  among 
them !  Addison  knew  nothing  of  Johnson's  sepulchre ;  stood 
not  by  the  rival  relics  of  Pitt  and  Fox ;  thrilled  not  as  he  ap- 
proached the  resting-place  of  aQkirke}  or  a  Wilbcrforce ;  and 
little  dreamed  how  much  more  than  tin-  shrine  of  Kings,  his  own 
last  bed  would  impress  a  stranger  from  America,  in  the  nine- 
teenth century.  How  transcendant  the  enchantment  with 
which  genius  invests  its  possessor,  where  it  is  paired  with  virtue ! 
With  what  refreshment  I  often  turned  from  the  royal  tombs  to 
the  Poets'  Corner ;  and  there,  with  what  reverence  did  I  turn 
most  frequently  to  the  monuments  of  those  whose  high  artistic 
inspiration  was  characterized  by  the  pure  spirit  of  love  to  God. 
It  was  pleasing  to  behold  the  memorials  of  Chaucer,  and  of 
-•rare  Ben  Jonson ;"  but  with  a  fonder  veneration  I  paused 
more  frequently  before  that  of  the  stainless  Spenser.  I  thought 
of  his  words  concerning  "  the  laurel" — and  how  fittingly  they 
apply  to  this  Abbey,  as  the  Wolfe — 


272  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

" Meed  of  mighty  conquerors 

And  poets  sage." 

With  a  different  sort  of  pleasure  I  surveyed  the  wonders  of 
the  British  Museum.  There,  a  scholar  can  find  all  he  needs  in 
the  way  of  literary  food,  freely  bestowed.  I  do  not  admire  the 
new  buildings ;  but  the  Institution  is  worthy  of  a  great  nation, 
and  reflects  eternal  honour  on  George  the  Third.  Will  the 
Smithsonian,  at  Washington,  ever  rival  it  1  Its  newest  and  its 
oldest  treasures,  were  the  great  stones  from  Nineveh,  so  cleverly 
described  by  the  Quarterly.  "With  what  emotions  I  surveyed 
those  illegible  hieroglyphics ;  and  scraped  acquaintance  with 
those  "  placid  grinning  kings,  twanging  their  jolly  bows  over 
their  rident  horses,  wounding  those  good-humoured  enemies,  who 
tumble  gaily  off  the  towers,  or  drown,  smiling  in  the  dimpling 
waters,  amidst  the  dv?]pL6[iov  yeXagfia  of  fish. 

The  English,  though  a  proud  people,  are  really  very  moderate 
in  their  appreciation  of  the  manifold  charms  of  their  incompara- 
ble isle.  When  I  surveyed  the  river-view  from  Richmond-hill,  I 
recalled  the  glorious  waters  of  my  own  dear  country,  and  many 
a  darling  scene  which  is  imperishably  stamped  in  my  mind's  eye, 
and  asked  myself  whether,  indeed,  this  was  more  delightful  to  the 
sight  than  those.  I  was  slow  to  admit  anything  inferior  in  the 
scenery  of  the  Hudson  and  Susquehanna,  when  I  compared  them 
with  so  diminutive  a  stream  as  the  Thames,  and  I  even  reproved 
myself  for  bringing  them  into  parallel ;  but  over  and  over  again 
was  I  forced  to  allow,  that  "  earth  has  not  anything  to  show  more 
fair,"  than  the  rich  luxuriance  of  the  panorama  which  I  then 
surveyed.  A  river  whose  banks  are  old  historic  fields,  and  whose 
placid  surface  reflects,  from  league  to  league  of  its  progress,  the 
towers  of  palaces  and  of  churches  which,  for  centuries,  have  been 
hallowed  by  ennobling  and  holy  associations;  which  flows  by  the 
favourite  haunts  of  genius,  or  winds  among  the  antique  halls  of 
consecrated  learning;  and  which,  after  sweeping  beneath  the 
gigantic  arches,  domes  and  temples  of  a  vast  metropolis,  gives 
itself  to  the  burthen  of  fleets  and  navies,  and  bears  them  magnifi- 
cently forth  to  the  ocean ;  such  an  object  must  necessarily  be 
one  of  the  highest  interest  to  any  one  capable  of  appreciating 
the  mentally  beautiful  and  sublime ;  but  when  natural  glories 
invest  the  same  objects  with  a  thousand  independent  attractions, 
who  need  be  ashamed  of  owning  an  overpowering  enthusiasm  in 
the  actual  survey,  and  something  scarcely  less  thrilling  in  the 


THOMSON.  273 

recollection !  "When  I  afterward  looked  towards  Rome,  and 
descried  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  from  Tivoli,  I  felt,  as  Gray  has 
somewhere  observed,  that  nothing  but  the  intellect  is  delighted 
there,  while  on  Richmond-hill,  the  soul  and  the  sense  alike 
are  ravished  with  the  view,  and  fail  to  conceive  anything  more 
satisfying  of  its  kind.  If  ever,  which  God  forbid,  the  barbarian 
should  overrun  this  scene,  and  make  ruins  of  its  surrounding 
villas  and  churches,  the  contemplative  visitor  of  a  future  genera- 
tion will  still  linger  on  those  heights  with  far  more  of  corn- 
er o 

plicated  and  harmonious  satisfaction  than  can  possibly  refresh 
the  eye  that  wanders  over  the  dreary  Campagna.  Yet  how 
few  of  the  great  and  fashionable  in  England  have  ever  allowed 
themselves  to  appreciate,  the  glories  of  their  own  scenery  after 
this  sort ! 

But  whether  on  those  lofty  banks,  or  down  by  the  river-side, 
or  wherever  I  wandered  amid  their  green  retreats,  I  owned  to 
myself  one  sad  disappointment.  I  repeated  over  and  over  again 
those  verses,  learned  in  school-days,  in  which  Collins  bewails  the 
poet  of  the  Seasons : — 

"  Remembrance  oft  shall  haunt  the  shore. 

When  Thames  in  summer  wreaths  is  dressed, 

And  oft  suspend  the  dashing  oar, 
To  bid  his  gentle  spirit  rest." 

Where  was  "yonder  grave,"  and  where  "yon  whitening  spire?" 
It  was  with  some  chagrin  that  I  followed  my  directions  into  the 
dullest  haunts  of  the  town,  and  into  a  modernized  church,  in  an 
unromantic  street,  and  there  soliloquized,  over  a  miserable  brass 
plate,  amid  a  pile  of  pew-lumber — ;;  In  such  a  grave  your  Druid 
lies  !"  It  is  amusing,  on  a  few  square  inches  of  worthless  metal, 
as  entirely  devoid  of  artificial  value  as  it  is  of  intrinsic  worth,  to 
observe  the  vanity  with  which  a  man  of  rank  has  contrived  to 
write  his  own  name  in  as  large  letters  as  those  of  the  poet's. 
"  The  Earl  of  Buchan,  unwilling  that  so  good  a  man,  and  so 
sweet  a  poet,  should  be  without  a  memorial,  has  denoted  the  place 
of  his  interment,  &c." — so  reads  the  inscription.  The  Earl  has 
at  least  the  merit  of  having  exactly  expressed  the  character  of 
Ins  tribute,  for  it  denotes  the  place,  and  that's  all.  One  would 
think  a  Scottish  nobleman  might  have  spared  a  few  guineas  in 
doing  something  better  for  the  grave  of  his  countryman. 

A  glimpse  of  Twickenham,  and  of  the  spire  of  the  church 
where  Pope  is  entombed,  were  all  that  I  allowed  mvself.  in  honour 

12* 


27-i  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

of  a  bard  whose  faultless  verse  is  no  excuse  for  the  frequent  in- 
decency and  paganism  of  its  sentiment.  It  is  a  curious  and  re- 
volting fact  that  his  skull  has  been  purloined,  and  now  belongs 
to  a  phrenologist.  I  caught  a  railway  view  of  Datchet-lane, 
famous  for  FalstafF's  experiences  in  the  buck-basket,  and  so 
once  more  to  Windsor  !  I  stopped,  over  a  train,  to  enjoy  one  more 
walk  on  the  castle  terrace,  and  one  more  look  at  Eton  college,  and 
then  hastened  on  to  Oxford,  to  attend  the  Commemoration.  I 
accepted  the  hospitalities  of  my  friends  of  Magdalen,  who  lodged 
me  in  the  rooms  formerly  occupied  by  the  Bishop  of  Exeter. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 


Oxford  and  Cambridge. 

I  had  seen  Oxford  in  vacation,  and  again  during  term ;  I  had 
now  the  privilege  of  attending  its  Encaenia.  The  occasion  brings 
many  distinguished  persons  to  the  University,  and  the  pleasures 
of  dining  and  breakfasting  in  the  college-halls,  and  with  private 
parties,  are  greatly  enhanced  by  such  additions  to  the  company  of 
eminent  residents.  The  ceremonies  in  the  Academic  theatre 
sadly  disappointed  me.  Imagine  an  open  area,  filled  with  gowns- 
men and  their  friends,  and  surrounded  by  tiers  of  boxes  filled 
with  ladies,  above  which,  near  the  ceiling,  is  elevated  a  third 
tier,  full  of  undergraduates.  The  Dons  and  doctors,  in  their 
robes,  sit  on  cither  side  of  the  Vice-Chancellor,  at  one  extremity 
of  the  theatre,  in  a  place  something  between  a  row  of  boxes  and 
an  orchestra.  In  the  presence  of  ladies  and  of  such  grave  and 
reverend  seniors,  one  naturally  expects  decorum  from  all  parties ; 
but  though  I  had  often  read  of  the  frolics  in  which  the  under- 
graduates are  permitted  to  indulge  on  these  occasions,  I  confess 
I  was  not  fully  prepared  for  the  excessive  and  prolonged  turbu- 
lence of  the  scene.  While  awaiting  the  opening  of  the  cere- 
monial, it  was  well  enough  to  laugh  at  the  cheers  of  the  youth 
as  they  called  out  successively  the  names  of  favourite  public 
personages,  or  at  their  sibilations,  when  the  names  of  "  Lord  John 
Russell"  and  "  Cardinal  Wiseman"  were  proposed  for  merited 
derision.  But  when,  again  and  again,  as  the  venerable  Vice- 
Chancellor  rose  to  make  a  beginning,  his  voice  was  vociferously 
outnoised  by  that  of  the  boys  overhead,  I  began  to  think  the 
joke  was  carried  a  little  too  far.  There  had  been  some  omission 
of  customary  music,  and  to  supply  the  deficiency,  uprose  those 
legions  of  youth,  and  shouted — God  save  the  Queen,  in  full  chorus, 


276  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

stanza  after  stanza,  till  the  Dons  looked  eminently  disloyal  in 
their  impatience.  The  Creweian  Oration  was  delivered  by  the 
Public  Orator,  and  I  was  particularly  desirous  of  marking  his 
pronunciation  of  Latin  words,  as  well  as  the  general  merit  of  a 
performance  in  which  once,  upon  a  like  occasion,  Bishop  Lowth 
so  handsomely  acquitted  himself.  But,  I  think,  I  speak  within 
bounds  when  I  say  that  scarcely  an  entire  sentence  could  be 
heard,  from  beginning  to  end.  All  manner  of  outcries  assailed 
the  speaker,  from  his  rising  till  he  surceased.  At  one  time,  an 
extremely  impudent  personality  excited  a  general  smile.  The 
orator  waxed  warm  as  he  spoke,  and  growing  quite  rubicund  of 
visage,  some  flagitious  freshman  cried  out — "  Pray  stop ;  it  makes 
me  hot  to  look  at  you."  Several  distinguished  individuals, 
bishops  and  generals,  and  scientific  men,  were  presented  to  receive 
the  Doctorate  in  Civil  Law,  and  now  I  supposed  the  hospitality  of 
the  University  would  suffice  to  shield  the  eminent  personages  from 
the  annoyance  of  such  untimely  fun.  But  there  was  no  cessa- 
tion, and  when  Sir  W.  Page  TVood  Avas  presented,  there  was  a 
merry  cry  of  "inutile  lignum,"  at  which  no  one  laughed  more 
heartily  than  the  party  himself.  Verily,  thought  I,  if  this  were 
unheard  of  in  England,  and  were  only  set  down  in  the  book  of  some 
peregrine  Dickens,  as  what  he  saw  in  America,  at  a  Harvard 
Commencement,  how  inevitably  would  it  figure  in  reviews  and 
newspapers  as  a  telling  fact  against  the  disorganizing  tendencies  of 
democratic  education  !  In  Oxford,  it  is  regarded  as  a  mere  out- 
break of  youthful  merriment,  and  such  "is  indeed  the  case :  and 
yet,  unless  Encomia  and  Saturnalia  are  synonymous  terms,  one 
must  be  allowed  to  think  the  custom  best  honoured  in  the  breach. 
I  must  add,  that  during  the  delivery  of  a  poem,  by  an  under- 
graduate, his  comrades  showed  more  respect,  and  the  tumult 
subsided  for  a  time,  like  that  of  Ephesus,  on  the  remonstrance  of 
the  town-clerk.  The  young  poet  pronounced  his  numbers  in  the 
same  tribune  where  once  stood  Eeginald  Heber,  enchanting  all 
hearers  with  his  "  Palestine." 

A  lunch  in  the  superb  new  hall  of  Pembroke,  of  which  many 
ladies  partook  with  the  other  guests,  giving  the  hall  an  unusually 
gay  appearance ;  a  dinner  at  Oriel,  and  afterwards  sport  with 
bowls,  and  other  games,  in  the  garden  of  Exeter ;  and,  finally,  a 
very  agreeable  evening  party  at  Magdalen  ;  these  were  the  other 
occupations  of  the  day,  in  which  I  greatly  enjoyed  the  society  with 
which  I  mingled.  I  was  particularly  pleased  to  observe  the  enthusi- 
asm of  the  female  visitors  of  Oxford,  many  of  whom  had  come 


BUNYAIST.  277 

up  for  the  first  time,  and  were  less  acquainted  with  the  place  than 
myself.  It  was  a  novel  pleasure,  on  my  part,  to  tarn  cicerone, 
and  to  explain  to  a  group  of  English  ladies,  the  wonders  of  the 
University. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast  at  ?.Ierton.  and  a  lunch  at  Jesus 
College,  with  some  kind  friend.-  who  were  preparing  to  leave 
Oxford  for  the  Long  Vacation.  I  went,  in  the  company  of  some 
of  them,  to  Bedford,  and  there  took  coach  for  Cambridge.  I 
thought  of  John  Banyan,  who  once  inhabited  the  county-jail,  in 
this  place,  and  there  composed  his  wonderful  allegory  ;  and  as  I 
began  to  travel  along  the  banks  of  the  Ouse,  I  thought  of  William 
Cowper,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  do  justice  to  his  piety  and 
genius.  If  the  Church  of  England,  sharing  in  the  fault  of  the 
times,  (and  visiting  others  with  far  milder  penalties  than  both 
Papist-  and  Puritans  laid  upon  her)  was  in  any  sort  a  party  to 
his  ill-usage,  it  must  be  owned  that  she  has  done  him  full  justice, 
in  the  end.  lie  owed  his  enlargement  to  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln's 
interposition,  and  Cowper  and  Southey  have  affixed  the  stamp, 
and  given  currency  to  the  gold  of  his  genius.  I  am  ashamed 
that  he  was  not  taken  into  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln's  house,  and 
made  a  deacon,  and  so  cured  of  the  mistaken  enthusiasm  which 
was  evidently  the  misfortune  of  the  tinker,  and  not  the  natural 
bent  of  the  man. 

Our  journey  lay  over  a  dull  and  level  country,  and  there  was 
little  to  enliven  it.  except  the  conversation  of  a  young  Oxonian 
going  to  see  the  rival  University.  A  cantab.  returning  from  Ox- 
ford, maintained  a  good-natured  debate  with  him.  in  favour  of 
his  own  ahna-mater.  We  went  through  St.  Neot's,  where  I  re- 
membered Cowper  again  ;  descried  at  the  distance  of  some  twenty 
miles  the  majestic  bulk  of  Ely  Cathedral,  and  finally  greeted  the 
fair  vision  of  King's  College,  conspicuous  among  the  other  acade- 
mic homes  of  Granta.  It  was  the  fourth  of  July — and  thoughts 
of  the  very  different  scenes  through  which  my  friends  were  pass- 
ing in  America,  were  continually  in  my  mind.  Here  it  was  not 
thought  otj  though  a  day  which  has  left  its  mark  upon  Great 
Britain,  and  the  world.  Was  it  the  day  of  a  rebellion  ?  By  no 
means ;  unless  the  day  that  seated  William  of  Orange  on  the 
throne  of  England  was  such.  Our  fathers  ceased  to  be  English- 
men, because  a  corrupt  and  incompetent  Ministry  were  resolved 
that  they  should  no  longer  be  freemen.  I  thank  God  we  are  no 
longer  at  the  mercy  of  such  men  as  Lord  John  Kussell,  and  Sir 
William  Molesworth.     So  I  mused,  even  as  I  stood,  for  the  first 


278  IMPKESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

time,  in  venerable  Cambridge,  where  some  of  my  forefathers  were 
educated,  and  where  I  felt  it  a  sort  of  wrong  to  be  disinherited 
of  a  filial  right  to  feel  at  home. 

I  was  not  disappointed,  disagreeably,  in  Cambridge,  but  the 
reverse ;  and  it  grew  upon  me  every  hour  that  I  was  there.  One 
of  my  first  visits  was  to  the  truly  poetical  courts  of  Caius,  where 
the  singular  quaintness  of  its  three  gates  charmed  alike  my  sight 
and  fancy.  "Before  honour  is  humility" — and  here  the  proverb 
is  translated  into  architecture.  You  must  pass  through  the  gate 
of  humility,  and  the  gate  of  virtue,  before  emerging  through 
the  gate  of  honour.  Strange  that  the  beneficent  founder  of 
this  college,  like  Dr.  Faust,  in  Germany,  should  have  left  his 
name  to  legend-makers  and  fabulists,  and  so  to  comedy,  and  the 
"  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 

The  noble  twin  of  Oxford  is  certainly  inferior  in  the  ap- 
pearance which  she  first  presents  to  a  stranger,  and  yet,  from 
the  first,  the  chapel  of  King's  is  a  superb  sight,  which  even 
Oxford  might  almost  grudge  to  her  sister.  I  greatly  regretted 
reaching  Cambridge  during  a  vacation,  when  comparatively  few 
of  the  gownsmen  were  on  the  spot.  Still,  having  become  so 
familiar  with  academic  manners,  in  Oxford,  it  seemed  hardly 
necessary  to  do  more  than  survey  the  still-life  of  Cambridge,  in 
order  to  understand  it  as  well.  The  diversities  between  the 
Universities  are  indeed  many,  and  all  my  prepossessions  are  in 
favour  of  Oxford ;  and  yet,  after  a  brief  external  survey  of  her 
rival,  and  much  conversation  with  some  of  her  loyal  sons,  I  can 
easily  understand  their  attachment  to  her,  and  the  pride  they 
take  in  her  reputation,  as  well  as  their  firm  conviction  of  her 
superiority.  To  an  American,  indeed,  the  late  election  of  so 
unfit  a  person  as  Prince  Albert  to  be  their  Chancellor,  is  a  sur- 
prising thing ;  and  it  is  no  very  bright  omen,  for  the  University, 
that  the  prince  already  aims  to  shape  it,  as  near  as  possible,  after 
the  similitude  of  Bonn,  his  own  garlicky,  blouse-wearing,  and 
pipe-smoking  Alma  Mater,  in  Teutschland.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  spirited  resistance  which  was  made  to  that  measure,  in 
bold  opposition  even  to  the  known  wishes  of  a  beloved  Queen,  is 
instanced,  by  many  Cantabrigians,  as  a  proof  of  devotion  to 
great  principles,  of  which  they  have  reason  to  be  proud.  They 
have  a  thousand  better  reasons  for  being  proud  of  their  Univer- 
sity, and  would  that  their  Chancellor,  who  is  other  wise  so  well 
qualified,  had  the  power  to  appreciate  and  feel  them  half  as  Avarm- 
ly  as  many  an  American  does,  from  the  depth  of  his  soul ! 


THE  JOHXIANS.  279 

Cambridge  struck  me  as  an  older  and  less  modernized  place 
than  Oxford.  Its  streets  are  a  labyrinth,  and  many  of  them 
present  the  appearance  of  Continental,  rather  than  of  Insular 
Europe.  One  of  the  first  things  that  struck  me  was  the  conduit 
erected  by  the  same  "old  Hobson"  whom  Milton  celebrates,  and 
from  whom  comes  the  adage  of  "  Hobson's  choice."  He  was  a 
carrier,  and  kept  horses  to  let,  but  made  the  Cantata  take  the 
horse  that  stood  next  the  stable-door  whenever  they  came  to  hire. 
He  certainly  was  a  remarkable  man,  for  what  other  carrier  was 
ever  consigned  to  immortality  by  a  monument  in  Cambridge, 
by  a  practical  proverb,  and  by  a  memorial  in  the  verse  of  such  a 
poet  as  Milton  ? 

As  the  means  of  information  respecting  Cambridge  are  in 
everybody's  hands,  and  as  the  picturesque  of  its  colleges  and 
grounds  is  familiar  from  engravings,  I  shall  spare  my  reader 
the  trouble  of  details  which  might  seem  a  repetition  of  those 
of  Oxford.  In  St.  John's  college,  which  its  own  men  are 
accused  of  considering  the  University.  I  found  the  chapel, 
though  small  and  plain,  a  most  attractive  place.  Its  "  non-juror 
windows,"  and  other  memorials,  revive  many  historical  names. 
I  know  not  why  the  Johnians  have  received  the  Pindaric  epithet 
of  Swine,  but  so  it  is ;  and  the  peculiarly  pretty  bridge,  span- 
ning the  Cam,  which  unites  its  quadrangles  and"  halls,  ha* 
accordingly  won  the  sportive  name  of  the  "  Isthmus  of  Sues." 
In  the  very  pleasant  grounds  adjacent,  I  plucked  a  leaf  from  the 
silver-beech,  said  to  have  been  planted  by  Henry  Martyn,  and 
breathed  a  blessing  on  his  memory.  A  fellow  of  Trinity  kindly 
devoted  himself  to  showing  me  the  attractions  of  his  college, 
and  they  are  very  great.  The  library  is  a  Valhalla  of  literary 
heroes,  the  sons  of  Trinity,  whose  busts  adorn  the  alcoves :  and 
the  statue  of  Byron,  by  Thorwaldsen,  is  a  superb  addition  to  its 
treasures  of  art,  which,  on  the  whole,  will  do  no  harm  here, 
excluded  as  it  "was  from  Westminster  Abbey,  by  a  virtuous 
abhorrence  of  the  bold  blasphemer  whom  it  represents,  and  thus 
stauiped  as  deep  with  infamy  as  it  is  otherwise  clothed  with 
attractiveness.  Among  the  relics  of  the  collection,  there  were 
two  which  any  man  must  behold  with  reverence :  a  lock  of 
Sir  Isaac  Newton*  s  hair,  and  the  original  manuscripts  of  Para- 
dise Lost,  and  of  Lycidas  !  Then  to  the  chapel — that  chapel 
which  ever  since  I  read  "  the  Records  of  a  Good  Man's  Life," 
in  school-boy  days,  I  had  longed  to  see,  and  where  I  had  often 
wished  it  had  been  my  lot  to  pray,  in   college  life.      In  the 


280  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

ante-chapel,  there  was  that  statue  of  Newton,  so  beautifully 
described  by  the  author,  as  arresting  the  melancholy  attentions 
of  a  consumptive  youth,  as  he  passed  it,  for  the  last  time,  in  his 
surplice,  and  confessed  that  this  had  been  too  much  his  idol,  in 
that  house  of  God,  filling  his  enthusiasm  with  the  worship  of 
genius,  when  he  should  have  thought  only  of  his  Maker.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  thrills  of  excited  imagination  with  which  I 
received  some  of  my  first  impressions  of  Cambridge,  in  reading 
that  story  of  Singleton :  and  now  they  all  revived  as  I  stood 
upon  the  spot. 

Among  the  attractions  of  the  small  colleges,  I  must  not  omit 
to  mention  the  chapel  of  Jesus  College,  which  has  lately  under- 
gone a  thorough  restoration,  and  presents  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  specimens  of  revived  medievalism  in  art  which  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  is  the  work  of  an  accomplished  gentleman  of  the 
college,  assisted  to  some  extent  by  the  voluntary  contributions  of 
undergraduates.  Nothing  of  the  kind  which  I  saw  in  Oxford 
can  compare  with  this  exquisite  Oratory.  I  went  to  Christ's 
college  and  saw  Milton's  mulberry — a  pleasant  memorial  of 
his  best  days;  the  days  when  he  was  the  "lady  of  his  college" 
for  youthful  comeliness,  and  the  man  of  his  college  for  the 
genius  that  produced  Lycidas,  and  for  the  unsoured  feelings  that 
could  yet  appreciate  "the  high  embowed  roofs,"  and  the 
"  studious  cloisters"  by  which  he  was  there  surrounded.  Happy 
would  it  have  been  for  him,  had  he  kept  that  youthful  heart ! 
The  mulberry  is  propped  up  like  an  old  man  on  his  staff,  and 
shielded  from  the  weather  by  a  leaden  surtout,  but  must  soon 
cease  to  be  the  last  living  thing  that  connects  with  the  name  of 
Milton. 

What  a  place  is  Cambridge,  when  its  minor  colleges  suggest 
such  names !  As  I  passed  what  was  formerly  Bennet  college, 
I  thought  of  Cowper's  lines  on  his  brother.  There,  too,  was 
Pembroke,  suggesting  thoughts  of  Bramhali  and  of  Andrewes — 
of  Andrewes  whom  even  Milton  could  praise,  albeit  he  was  a 
prelate.  There  was  Peterhouse,  reminding  me  of  good  old 
Cosin.  More  than  all — there  Avas  little  Caius  (pronounced 
Keys)  where  Jeremy  Taylor,  the  poor  sizar  and  the  barber's 
son,  passed  so  often  to  and  fro,  beneath  its  quaint  old  gates, 
bearing  a  soul  within  him,  which  in  after  years  he  poured  forth, 
like  another  Chrysostom,  and  made  a  treasure  for  all  time.  I 
am  sorry  to  say  there  is  another  college  there,  which  suggests  the 
odious  name  of  Cromwell,  the  man  who  kindled  the  fiery  coals 


king's  college.  281 

in  which  the  golden  heart  of  Taylor,  and  the  hearts  of  thousands 
more,  were  well  refined,  and  seven  times  purified. 

The  Fitzwilliam  Museum  is  a  noble  collection  of  antique 
sculpture  and  architectural  relics,  with  a  library  and  paintings, 
and  has  been  housed  superbly  in  a  building,  which  is  a  great 
ornament  to  Cambridge,  although  built,  in  modern  taste,  and  in 
Grecian  style,  suiting  the  things  it  contains  better  than  the 
place  which  contains  it.  I  received  far  more  pleasure,  however, 
from  a  visit  to  the  celebrated  round  church,  which  has  been 
lately  restored,  and  whose  name,  St.  Sepulchre,  refers  it  to  the 
era  of  the  Crusades.  But  how  shall  I  speak  of  King's  College 
Chapel  ?  I  was  not  so  fortunate  as  to  see  it  filled  with  its 
white-robed  scholars,  but  its  own  self  was  sight  enough.  "  Such 
awful  perspective" — indeed!  Such  tints  from  such  windows — 
such  carvings — such  a  roof!  It  springs  and  spreads  above  you, 
light  as  the  spider's  web,  and  yet  it  is  all  massive  stone,  and  its 
construction  is  an  architectural  miracle.  I  climbed  to  the  roof, 
and  walked  upon  that  same  vaulting,  as  upon  a  solid  stone- 
pavement.  It  is  put  together  in  mathematical  figures,  and  on 
principles  purely  scientific  ;  but  modern  architects  are  puzzled 
to  explain  them.  Above  this,  there  is  another  roof,  which  is 
exposed  to  the  weather,  and  from  which  one  enjoys  a  fine  view  of 
the  town  and  the  surrounding  country.  The  walks  and  avenues 
of  limes,  which  stretch  before  King'-,  and  which  connect  with 
the  grounds  of  Trinity  and  St.  John's,  are  inferior  to  nothing  in 
Oxford,  and  are  generally  pronounced  by  Cambridge  men  supe- 
rior to  Christ  church  meadows  and  the  walks  of  Magdalen.  I 
strolled  among  some  magnificent  limes  in  the  grounds  ot*  Trinity, 
which  might  well  apologise  for  a  student's  opinion,  that  no  other 
college  in  the  world  has  such  grounds  and  trees.  As  for  the 
river  Cam.  its  beautiful  bridges,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  are  reflected 
in  a  very  sluggish  and  dirty  tide,  called  "silvery"  only  by  poetical 
license. 

Dining  in  the  hall  of  Trinity.  I  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
sublime  associations  of  such  a  place,  as  illustrated  by  the  por- 
traits around  me.  Everywhere  were  the  pictures  of  great 
historic  sons  of  this  college ;  here  was  Pearson,  and  there  was 
Barrow  ;  and  before  us,  as  we  sat  at  meat,  were  Bacon  and  Sir 
Isaac  Newton.  What  children  has  this  Mother  borne ;  not  for 
herself,  but  for  all  mankind  !  And  thus  much  I  will  say  for 
Cambridge,  as  compared  with  Oxford,  that  whereas  amid  the 
architectural  glories  of  the  latter,  one  almost  forgets  the  glory 


282 


IMPRESSIONS    OF   ENGLAND. 


of  her  sons,  you  are  reminded,  at  every  turn  in  Cambridge,  that 
her  chief  jewels  are  the  great  men  she  has  brought  forth.  One 
cannot  give  her  all  the  credit,  indeed :  she  has  been  singularly 
fortunate ;  but  when  hers  are  Bacon,  and  Newton,  and  Milton, 
and  Taylor,  and  stars,  in  constellations,  of  scarcely  minor  magni- 
tude, what  university  in  Christendom  can  call  itself  superior  ! 
If  Granta  has  her  peer,  there  is  nothing  that  is  more  than  that 
on  earth. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 


Cathedral  Tour — The  Border. 

A  cathedral  tour  now  lay  between  me  and  Scotland,  to 
which  I  began  to  make  my  way  rapidly.  All  that  I  had  yet  seen 
of  architecture,  promised  to  be  the.  mere  preface  to  what  was 
still  before  me,  in  the  splendours  of  Ely.  of  Peterborough,  of  Lin- 
coln, of  York,  and  of  Durham.  To  my  reader  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble to  convey  the  idea  of  variety  and  ever-novel  delight  with  which 
these  successive  miracles  of  the  builder's  art  impressed  me.  :;-  I 
passed  from  one  to  the  other,  from  day  to  day ;  but  I  will  touch 
on  the  more  special  characteristics  of  each,  in  full  confidence  that 
what  is  most  striking  in  old  historic  monuments,  like  these,  can 
never  tire  the  head  that  is  furnished  alike  with  eyes  and  brains. 

The  train  took  me  swiftly  to  Ely,  over  a  fenny  district,  which 
supplied  nothing  of  interest,  except  the  distant  view  of  the 
towers,  which  loomed  up,  more  and  more,  as  we  drew  nigh  the 
little  city.  How  different  this  railway  approach  from  that  cele- 
brated by  Wordsworth  : — 

'■A  pleasant  music  floats  along  the  mere, 
From  monks  in  Ely  chanting  service  high, 
"Whileas  Canute  the  king  is  rowing  by  '." 

I  found  this  magnificent  work  partly  in  ruins — partly  under- 
going a  beautiful  restoration  ;  and  as  the  pavement  of  the  choir 
was  torn  up,  I  beheld  a  stone-cofTm,  in  which,  perhaps,  lie  the 
bones  of  one  of  those  very  monks,  who  were  singing  in  the  days 
of  King  Canute.  At  my  request,  one  of  the  workmen  raised  the 
lid  of  the  coffin,  and  there  lay  the  skull  and  bones  of  an  old 
ecclesiastic,   the   former   quite   entire;    or,    perhaps,   it   was   St. 


284  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

Ethelfreda  herself,  who  began  her  building  here  in  the  seventh 
century.  If  so,  they  are  repairing  her  works,  in  the  nineteenth, 
in  a  spirit  of  nobler  art,  than  she  ever  imagined.  The  restora- 
tions are  truly  superb,  and  a  future  visitor  will  find  the  choir  of 
Ely  one  of  the  most  impressive  temples  in  Christendom.  What 
an  age  of  restorations  this  is,  in  the  Church  of  England !  'Tis  a 
nobler  reformation  than  that  of  three  hundred  years  ago — for 
that  was,  necessarily,  one  of  haste  and  of  overthrow.  Now  a 
calm  constructiveness  is  at  work,  holding  fast  all  that  was  gained 
before ;  but  giving  it  the  finish,  which  was  impossible  then. 
And  these  material  restorations  are  but  the  symbol  of  a  great 
spiritual  awakening,  concerning  which,  there  is  one  painful 
thought  which  no  student  of  English  History  should  ever  forget. 
It  is  this,  that  but  for  the  Puritans,  all  this  would  have  been 
done  in  the  seventeenth  century !  Greater  and  better  men  were 
then  on  the  stage  than  any  that  are  now  living,  and  all  that  the 
age  of  Victoria  is  doing  for  Christ,  it  was  in  the  heart  of  King 
Charles  to  do.  It  is  impossible  to  say  what  might  not  have  been 
the  blessed  results  for  the  Universe  had  the  Church  of  England 
been  in  a  condition  to  tempt  the  Church  of  France  to  an  alliance 
in  1682.  All  we  can  say  on  the  other  hand,  is  that,  let  Macau- 
lay  declaim  as  he  may,  progressive  freedom  would  have  been 
established  in  England  without  the  paradoxical  intervention  of  a 
Cromwell,  while  there  is  nothing  left  us,  as  the  direct  results  of 
Puritanism,  except  a  few  Socinian  congregations,  and  the  "  Dis- 
senters' Chapels'  Bill." 

The  massiveness  of  some  portions  of  this  cathedral,  and  the 
lightness  and  grace  of  others,  are  very  impressive.  Its  length  is 
very  great,  and  the  vista  "  long  drawn  out."  Amid  its  ancient  monu- 
ments I  spent  a  solemn  hour  of  musing,  while  the  light  of  the 
descending  sun,  through  the  clere-story  and  lantern,  showered  a 
soft  and  melancholy  radiance  over  the  whole  interior,  admirably 
harmonizing  with  the  reflections  it  necessarily  inspired. 

I  found  Peterborough  another  sleepy  little  city,  and  the  cathe- 
dral beautifully  situated,  with  the  Bishop's  palace  hard  by.  It 
is  a  severe,  but  grand  exterior,  and  presides  over  the  surrounding 
trees,  and  roofs,  like  a  sort  of  divinity.  It  is  quite  free  of  en- 
croachment from  other  buildings;  but  its  close,  or  precinct,  is 
guarded  by  a  circuit  of  prebendal,  and  other  ecclesiastical  houses, 
with  turreted  and  arched  gateways,  which  seem  to  command  a 
reverent  approach  to  the  sacred  spot.  I  omit  a  technical  descrip- 
tion of  the  architecture,  but  must  be  allowed  to  give  some  account 


QUEEN   CATHERINE.  285 

of  the  Sunday  I  spent  there,  and  of  one  or  two  little  things  that 
deeply  affected  me. 

While  the  bells  were  thundering  for  Morning  Service,  I  stood  in 
the  nave,  wholly  lost  in  contemplation  of  its  plain,  but  massive 
majesty.  A  train  of  children  entered,  with  their  teachers,  evi- 
dently a  Sunday-school.  I  watched  the  little  procession  as  it 
wound  its  way  amid  the  columns,  and  turned  to  the  left  of  the 
choir.  Following  them,  I  saw  them  enter  the  choir,  by  a  small 
side-door,  and  as  they  stepped  into  it,  every  little  foot  fell  on  a 
slab  of  stone,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  a  little  brass  plate,  not 
so  large  as  one's  hand.  When  all  had  gone  in,  and  were  kneel- 
ing in  their  meek  array,  I  drew  near,  and  stooped  down  to  see 
over  whose  dust  they  had  been  treading.  I  read  a  few  words ;  but 
they  thrilled  me  like  electricity — "Queen  Katherine,  1536!" 
Here,  then,  lies  that  proud  daughter  of  Arragon,  whose  mournful 
history  has  left  its  mark  upon  nations,  and  upon  Christendom  ! 
The  scene  in  Shakspeare  rose  before  me — Pope — Cardinals — 
Princes — Henry  VIII.  This  stone  covers  all,  and  peasants'  babes 
trip  over  it  as  lightly  as  if  the  life  that  lies  extinguished  there, 
had  been  as  simple  as  their  own  ! 

In  the  corresponding  spot,  on  the  other  side,  lies  just  such 
another  slab,  over  another  sepulchre.  The  body  has  been  re- 
moved to  Westminster  Abbey;  but  its  first  repose  was  here. 
The  brass  has  been  torn  out ;  but  it  once  read,  "  Queen  Mary, 
1587" — for  here  the  poor  Queen  of  Scots  was  laid,  headless,  and 
festering  in  her  cerements,  six  months  after  that  fatal  day,  in  the 
neighbouring  Fotheringay  Castle.  The  date  of  her  interment 
offers  the  best  apology  for  the  severity  she  had  suffered,  although 
nothing  can  excuse  the  sin  of  Elizabeth.  It  was  the  year  before  the 
Spanish  Armada  ;  and  it  is  now  known  that  she  had,  two  years  pre- 
viously, given  her  kingdom  to  Philip  II.,  inviting  that  bloody  bigot 
to  set  up  his  Inquisition  among  her  Scottish  subjects,  and  exclud- 
ing her  own  son  from  his  right.  Such  was  her  crime  against 
her  own  people,  aimed,  however,  more  especially  at  England, 
by  her  fanatical  zeal.  Between  these  solemn  tombs  of  a  Queen 
of  France,  and  a  daughter  of  Spain,  I  worshipped  that  day,  and 
received  the  Holy  Communion,  to  my  comfort.  The  anthem  was 
a  familiar  strain,  from  Mozart,  which  we  sing  in  America  to  the 
Christmas  hymn,  set  to  words  from  the  Psalter — Quam  magniji- 
cata  opera  tua  !  The  Bishop  of  Peterborough  was  the  preacher, 
and  I  heard  him  again  at  Evening  Service.  As  you  leave  the 
nave  through  the  western  entrance,  you  see  an  odd  portrait  set 


286  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

against  the  wall,  that  of  a  grave-digger,  spade  in  hand.  Under- 
neath, you  read — "R.  Scarlett,  died  1594,  aged  98."  He  buried 
the  two  Queens,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  twice  over,  as 
you  learn  from  uncouth  rhymes  subjoined.  Was  ever  such  a 
' 'king  of  spades?" 

Next  morning  I  saw  "  Lincoln,  on  its  sovereign  hill,"  and 
heard  the  Great  Tom — ,;  swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar."  The 
restorations  going  on  in  the  choir  had  driven  the  service  into  a 
little  chapel,  near  the  west  end ;  but  the  singing  was  very  sweet, 
and  solemn,  though  entirely  without  ceremony.  I  devoted  the 
morning  to  the  survey  of  this  model  of  art,  which  I  like  the  bet- 
ter, because  it  is,  in  part,  a  monument  of  the  Anglican  Liberties, 
as  they  were  maintained  in  the  middle  ages,  against  the  Roman 
Pontiff.  The  central  tower  is  the  work  of  brave  old  Bishop 
Grostete,  in  the  thirteenth  century.  He  was  the  predecessor  of 
Wycliffe  and  Cranmer,  in  defying  the  Pope,  and  in  spite  of  papal 
anathemas,  he  died  in  peaceful  possession  of  his  See.  All  honour 
to  his  pious  memory. 

It  is  the  custom  to  admire  the  west  front  of  this  cathedral 
extravagantly;  but  I  confess  that  with  all  that  there  is  to  admire 
in  its  separate  parts,  the  whole  seems,  to  me,  ill-composed.  The 
towers,  more  particularly,  strike  me  as  possessing  no  unity  with 
the  mass  of  architecture,  behind  which  they  rise,  as  from  a 
screen,  whose  broad  rectangular  frontage  detracts  from  the  appa- 
rent height.  It  is  only  as  seen  from  the  foot  of  the  hill,  that  the 
whole  architectural  bulk  affects  the  eye  sublimely,  towering 
majestically  over  the  town,  which  crouches  at  its  base.  The 
whole  pile  affords  to  the  architectural  student  every  luxury  of  his 
art,,  both  within  and  without ;  but  such  were  the  desecrations  which 
it  suffered  from  the  Cromwellians,  that  few  of  those  gorgeous 
shrines,  for  which  it  was  formerly  distinguished,  remain,  to  de- 
light the  ordinary  visiter.  In  the  cloisters  have  lately  been  dis- 
covered some  Roman  remains :  a  mosaic  pavement,  in  particular, 
such  as  the  traveller  is  so  often  shown  in  Italy.  "  The  Jew's 
house,"  so  called,  a  relic  of  mediaeval  art,  was  more  interesting  to 
me,  as  connected  with  the  legend  of  the  little  martyr  who  lies 
in  the  cathedral,  and  who  is  celebrated  by  Chaucer,  in  the  tale 
of  the  Prioress. 

The  City  of  York  makes  an  imposing  show,  crowned  by  the 
glories  of  its  vast  minster,  and  walled  in,  like  Chester,  with 
ancient  ramparts,  which  nearly  encircle  the  town.  How  singular 
the  reflection  that  Constantine  the  Great  was  a  native  Yorkshire- 


YORKMIXSTER.  287 

man,  bom  in  this  town,  in  A.D.  272!  Here,  too,  his  father  died, 
in  A.D.  307,  and  he  succeeded  to  the  empire,  going  forth  to  re- 
form pagan  Rome,  as  I  trust  the  spirit  of  England  has  even  now 
gone  forth  to  do  the  same  for  Rome  papal.  Here,  too,  lived 
the  Emperor  Severus,  and  here  Geta  fell  by  the  hand  of  his 
brother,  Caracalla.  Among  the  monuments  of  the  Roman  Fo- 
rum, these  names  afterward  reminded  me  of  York ;  while,  across 
the  broad  Atlantic,  the  immense  city  where  I  had  been  brought  up, 
had  always  been  to  me,  her  memorial.  How  many  were  the  re- 
flections with  which  I  walked  the  whole  circuit  of  her  walls,  and 
surveyed  the  town,  the  ancient  castle,  and  the  surrounding 
scenery,  and  then  sailed  upon  the  river  beneath!  The  beautiful 
ruins  of  an  old  abbey,  near  the  river,  still  delight  the  anti- 
quarian ;  but  after  cursorily  surveying  these,  I  hastened  to  the 
cathedral. 

The  western  front  of  the  minster  is  worthy  of  its  extraordi- 
nary fame.  The  semi-barbarian  features  of  many  of  the  cathe- 
drals are  here  superseded  by  what  might  seem  to  be  the  idealized 
perfection  of  their  rude  details.  The  unity  which  was  wanting  in 
Lincoln,  seemed  to  be  here  complete  and  entire;  and  the  rich  and 
delicate  tracery  which  invests  it  has  the  appearance  of  an  elaborate 
tissue  of  lace,  fitted  over  the  stone  after  the  substantial  part  was 
complete.  From  other  points  of  view,  the  impression  is  less  of 
grace,  and  more  of  majesty.  The  whole  is  sublime  in  its  effect 
beyond  that  of  any  other  cathedral  that  I  ever  saw  ;  and  even  in 
Milan,  I  could  not  but  say  to  myself,  as  I  gazed  on  its  wonderful 
Duomo — "  after  all,  it  is,  as  compared  with  York,  only  a  beauti- 
ful monster."  There  is  something  about  it  which  realizes  the 
idea  of  a  cathedral,  in  its  model  form  ;  and  this  is  a  charm  that  is 
wanting  in  many  others  of  its  class.  In  its  ample  choir,  I  was 
more  affected  by  the  service  than  at  any  other  place,  with  the 
exception  perhaps  of  Canterbury,  so  far  as  it  depended  on  the 
elevating  influence  of  mere  architecture,  consciously  felt  and  cm- 
ployed  to  ennoble  the  sacrifice  of  praise  and  prayer.  With  the 
survey  of  the  chapter-house,  cloisters,  and  tombs,  I  was  less  inter- 
ested than  with  repeated  efforts  to  take  in  the  vast  sweep  of  the 
interior,  and  to  animate  it  with  visions  of  what  it  may  yet  be- 
come, when  Deans  and  Canons  wake  up  to  the  immense  responsi- 
bility of  their  opportunities  to  work  for  the  glory  of  God.  The 
tone  of  the  service,  and  the  swell  of  the  organ,  even  now,  give 
wings  to  worship,  when  the  anthem  rises  beneath  this  lofty  vault, 
and  dies  away  in  the  profound  depth  of  the  nave,  or  spreads  itself 


288  IMPRESSIONS  OF   ENGLAND. 

amid  aisles  and  columns,  with  multiplied  reverberations  and  undula- 
tions of  harmony ;  but  oh !  what  might  not  be  its  heavenly  effect,' 
were  the  choir  and  nave  all  one,  and  filled  with  kneeling  thou- 
sands, lifting  up  their  voice  with  one  accord  in  the  overwhelming 
common-prayer  of  the  Anglican  Church  !  A  friend  of  mine, 
who  was  once  present,  in  Yorkminster,  on  a  Sunday,  realized 
something  very  near  what  I  strove  to  imagine.  The  congregation 
was  swelled  by  the  presence  of  several  regiments  of  soldiers,  who 
appeared  to  take  part  in  the  worship,  and  whose  gay  uniforms, 
as  they  knelt  on  the  mosaic  floor,  received  a  richer  splendour 
from  the  tinted  lights  that  flowed  down  from  lofty  windows, 
where  meek  saints  and  mighty  princes  seem  to  live  again  in  the 
lustre  of  their  portraiture. 

An  early  start  next  morning,  a  short  railway  trip,  and  then  a 
stage-coach   drive   of  two   miles,  and  then  a  walk  through  the 

fields,  brought  me  to  S ■  parsonage,  before  breakfast,  where  a 

kindly  welcome  awaited  me  from  my  Malvern  acquaintances.  A 
day  had  been  planned  for  me  by  the  kind  lady  of  the  parsonage, 
and  though  it  threatened  rain,  she  laughed  at  the  idea  of  aban- 
doning it  on  that  account.  An  American  lady  would  scarcely 
have  thought  of  it,  even  in  fair  weather,  as  the  excursion  involv- 
ed not  a  little  exercise  of  the  foot.  Off  we  went  in  a  pony-car- 
riage to  Ripon,  where  I  had  time  for  a  hasty  inspection  of  the 
minster,  lately  made  a  cathedral.  It  is  a  severe  specimen  of  Early 
English,  and  affords  much  to  interest  the  student ;  but  very  little 
to  make  a  story  of,  unless  we  adopt  Camden's  explanation  of  St. 
Wilfrids'  needle  in  the  crypt.  It  is  a  narrow  perforation  of  the 
masonry,  through  which  ladies  were  sometimes  required  to  pass, 
when,  as  Fuller  says,  "  those  who  could  not  thread  the  needle 
pricked  their  own  credit." 

We  went  through  the  grounds  of  Studley  Royal,  enjoying  a 
diversified  view  of  beautiful  park  scenery,  till  we  came  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  Fountains  Abbey,  and  exchanged  our  drive  for 
a  walk.  We  passed  through  woods,  and  by  little  lakes,  and  over 
rustic  bridges,  and  came  at  last  into  a  walk  richly  embowered 
with  trees,  along  a  height,  where  the  foliage  completely  screened 
the  view  below.  Our  fair  conductress  promised  us  a  lunch  at  a 
little  halting-place  called  Anne  Boleyn's  Seat.  I  did  not  tell  her 
that  I  had  foreknowledge  of  the  trick  she  meant  to  play  upon 
me ;  but  I  sincerely  wish  that  I  had  never  heard  of  it,  for  my  own 
sake  as  well  as  hers.  Arrived  at  the  spot,  we  sat  down  to  rest, 
when  suddenly  the  lady  flung  open  a  door,  and  before  us  was 


FOUNTAINS   ABBEY.  289 

such  a  view  as  can  be  seen  nowhere  else  in  the  world.  We  were 
balconied,  in  a  lofty  window,  and  below  was  the  beautiful  valley 
and  meadow :  at  the  extremity  of  which,  rise  the  ancient  walls, 
chapel  window,  and  tower  of  Fountains  Abbey — the  most  poeti- 
cal ruin  in  existence.  All  Italy  has  nothing  to  show,  that  can  be 
compared  with  it  for  beauty,  especially  if  we  take  into  account 
the  extraordinary  charms  of  the  wooded  steeps  that  surround  it, 
and  of  the  green  velvet  mead,  from  which  it  lifts  itself  like  the 
creation  of  enchantment.  Its  architecture  is  vast  and  majestic 
in  scale,  and  the  ivy  has  contrived  to  festoon  and  mantle  its 
magnificence,  in  such  wise  as  to  lend  it  a  grace  it  never  could 
have  possessed  even  in  its  first  glory.  There  is  a  more  sylvan 
charm  about  Tintern.  Fountains  Abbey  is  the  perfection  of 
artificial  beauty,  for  even  its  surrounding  nature  is  impressed  with 
a  look  of  long  and  complete  subjugation  to  the  hand  of  consum- 
mate art. 

I  assured  our  fair  enchantress,  that  although  I  had  heard  of 
this  surprise  before,  her  playfulness  had  not  been  lost  on  me.  I 
had  expected  to  enjoy  it  only  under  the  humdrum  operation  of 
an  ordinary  guide.  She  had  heightened  the  effect  by  her  talis- 
manic  touch  and  artistic  air,  and  I  was  free  to  confess  that  the 
effect  produced  was  such,  that  "  the  half  had  not  been  told  me." 
A  little  streamlet  runs  through  the  meadow,  like  a  silver  thread 
upon  emerald ;  and  nothing  which  a  painter  could  wish  is  want- 
ing to  make  the  scene  a  picture  of  delight.  I  could  not  but 
think  of  the  still  waters,  and  the  green  pastures,  and  the  glorious 
mansions  of  a  better  world. 

The  Abbey  was  Cistercian,  as  the  fat  valley  in  which  it  stands 
might  indicate,  according  to  the  rhyme : — 

"  Bernard  the  vales,  as  Benedict  the  steeps, 
But  Loyola  the  hum  of  cities  loved." 

It  was  founded,  in  fact,  in  the  time  of  St.  Bernard,  under  the 
first  impulses  communicated  to  Europe  by  his  vast  enthusiasm. 
But  it  is  in  vain  that  we  look  for  any  traces  of  his  asceticism,  in 
the  luxurious  splendour  of  every  portion  of  this  noble  pile. 
Here  you  enter  the  lordly  refectoiy;  you  pass  to  the  ample 
kitchen,  and  ascend  to  the  long  range  of  dormitories.  What 
prince  on  earth  is  better  lodged  !  The  chapter-house  is  on  the 
same  scale  of  dignity ;  and  the  cloisters  are  a  long  perspective  of 
pillared  arches,  through  which  the  eye  can  scarcely  penetrate  to 
the  end.     But  the  church,  with  its  elaborate  chapels,  of  which 

13 


290  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

nearly  half  the  pillars  are  standing  in  their  gracefulness,  beggars 
description.  Its  floor  is  green  turf,  and  its  walls  are  hung  with 
living  tapestiy ;  but  it  seems  still  a  vast  cathedral,  and  the  more 
beautiful,  for  its  heavenly  vault,  and  its  windows,  opening  in  all 
their  rich  variety  of  form,  bright  glimpses  of  wood  and  sky. 
Everything  is  in  keeping,  and  the  whole  is  such  an  epitome  of  the 
monastic  system  as  suggests  alike  its  glory  and  its  shame.  The 
excavations  are  still  going  on,  and  like  those  of  Pompeii,  they  are 
revealing  the  most  minute  and  tell-tale  particulars  of  monastic 
life.  One  cannot  altogether  regret  that  such  establishments  are 
of  the  past,  and  yet  the  experiment  of  their  reform  should  have 
been  fairly  tried,  before  destruction  made  it  forever  impossible 
to  restore  them  to  noble  and  pious  uses. 

"Near  the  Abbey  is  a  yew-tree  of  great  antiquity,  beneath 
which,  tradition  says,  the  first  colony  of  monks  assembled,  and 
planned  their  future  home.  In  a  secluded  spot,  a  little  further 
on,  I  came  to  Fountains  Hall,  a  pleasant  manorial  residence. 
It  was  built  in  the  time  of  the  first  Stuart,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  add, 
of  materials,  quarried  in  the  old  Abbey.  Such  being  the  case,  I 
am  glad  it  is  not  mine.  Sacrilege  is  so  fatal  a  sin,  that  I  hardly 
dared  to  take  away  a  bit  of  moss  from  the  Abbey  walls ;  and  to 
remove  a  cubic  inch  of  its  masonry,  was  a  liberty  from  which  I 
shrank,  as  a  sort  of  irreverence  to  God. 

Adieu  to  Fountains — but  the  scene  will  never  leave  my  men- 
tal vision,  which  will  retain  as  tenaciously,  also,  the  recollection 
cf  those  whose  company  enabled  me  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  scene,  as  I  never  can  when  alone.  Reluctantly  bidding  them 
farewell,  I  went  by  rail  to  South  Shields,  on  a  visit  to  an  estima- 
ble M.P.,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  in  London.  He  is  a 
man  of  great  natural  refinement,  and  of  very  superior  accom- 
plishments, having  greatly  distinguished  himself  in  early  life,  at 
Oxford,  though  his  retiring  disposition  has  kept  him  from  the 
ambitious  dignities  which  he  might  easily  have  commanded. 
Though  there  are  few,  in  England,  to  whom  I  became  more 
attached,  I  must  add  that  it  was  neither  from  political  nor  reli- 
gious affinities.  He  is  as  much  of  a  dissenter  as  a  churchman 
can  well  be,  and  as  little  of  a  John  Bull  as  an  Englishman  can 
well  be ;  but  it  is  my  creed,  that  none  but  the  most  narrow-minded 
mortals  limit  their  society  to  those  who  share  their  own  likes  and 
dislikes,  and  never  has  my  contempt  for  Sallust's  rule  of  friend- 
ship been  more  richly  rewarded  than  in  the  relations  which  I 
formed  with  Mr.  I ,     With   his  liberal   feelings  towards- 


DURHAM.  291 

America,  I  was  particularly  gratified ;  and  it  was  pleasant  indeed  to 
listen  to  this  estimable  man,  as  he  generously  eulogized  several  of 
my  countrymen,  whom  he  had  made  his  friends.  Most  attractive 
too  was  his  unassuming  piety.  His  Greek  Testament  was  his 
familiar  companion,  and  he  was  sometimes  betrayed  into  scholarly 
criticisms  of  its  text,  which  I  could  not  always  adopt,  but  which 
I  was  forced  to  admire,  as  drawn  from  stores  of  classical  knowl- 
edge and  accuracy.  I  felt  it  a  great  privilege  to  be  his  guest,  and 
fell  asleep  in  my  chamber,  full  of  happy  reflections  on  the 
pleasures  of  the  day,  and  lulled  by  the  sounds  of  the  sea,  which 
breaks  on  the  boundaries  of  his  demesne.  The  morning  light 
came  to  my  window  over  the  German  Ocean,  for  the  King  of 
Denmark  is  next  neighbour  to  my  friend  in  that  direction. 

I  was  now  among  the  collieries,  but  had  no  desire  to  know 
anything  about  them.  I  saw  the  mouths  of  the  doleful  pita 
which  descend  to  these  human  burrows,  and  to  think  of  the 
miserable  population  below,  was  enough  !  There  they  live,  and 
die,  and  are  buried  while  they  live,  and  are  far  more  wretched, 
I  should  imagine,  than  the  servile  class,  in  most  cases,  among  us* 
The  amelioration  of  life  in  the  collieries,  is  by  no  means  neglected 
however.  England  is  alive  to  the  spiritual  and  temporal  destitu- 
tion of  her  poor,  of  every  condition  ;  and  happy  will  it  be  for  us, 
when  our  national  evils  are  as  deeply  felt  as  those  of  England 
are  by  Englishmen;  when  they  are  as  temperately  and  freely  dis- 
cussed, and  as  boldly  submitted  to  an  enlightened  spirit  of  pro- 
gress and  reform. 

With  my  estimable  friend,  I  visited  Durham,  it*  cathedral  and 
University,  and  enjoyed  great  privileges  in  so  doing,  as  the  result 
of  his  kindness.  On  our  way,  he  pointed  out  the  secluded  and 
saintly  Jarrow,  and  the  tower  of  Bernard  Gilpin's  Church.  In 
this  neighbourhood  occur  two  names  that  startle  an  American  : 
he  comes  to  Franklin,  and  to  Washington,  little  villages  which 
have  imparted  their  names  to  hundreds  of  places  in  America,  by 
first  giving  them  to  two  really  great  men.  With  us,  places  are 
named  from  individuals ;  but  in  England,  the  reverse  is  more 
frequently  the  case. 

"Stupendous" — is  the  epithet  for  the  cathedral  of  Durham. 
It  is  the  poetry  of  the  frigid  zone  of  architecture,  as  Milan 
cathedral  is  of  its  tropics.  The  first  impressions,  on  entering, 
were  instinctively  those  of  the  patriarch — i;  how  dreadful  is  this 
place — this  is  none  other  than  the  House  of  God."  At  York,  1 
had  said — '  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven.'     Here  an  overpowering 


292  IMPRESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

solemnity  brooded  over  every  thought,  and  I  less  admired  than 
wondered.  One  thing  was  most  pleasing :  there  is  no  screen,  and 
the  eye  ranges  through  nave  and  choir,  unrestrained,  to  the  altar 
itself,  to  which  a  bas-relief  of  the  last  supper,  gives  a  fine  effect. 
Under  the  guidance  of  Canon  Townsend,  who  had  lately  return- 
ed from  his  most  primitive  visit  to  the  Pope,  we  surveyed  the 
entire  cathedral  and  its  adjoining  courts,  all  alike  builded  for 
everlasting,  if  the  solidity  and  grandeur  of  its  masonry  be  any 
index  of  its  design.  We  visited  "the  Galilee,"  and  the  tomb  of 
the  venerable  Bede,  the  "  nine  altars,"  at  the  eastern  end,  and  the 
tomb  of  St.  Cuthbert.  Also,  the  chapter-house,  hallowed  by 
the  names  of  Aidan  and  Finan,  those  apostles  of  the  North,  who 
came  forth  from  Iona  to  illuminate  our  Saxon  ancestors.  I  pity 
the  man  who  claims  no  kin  with  their  ancient  faith  and  piety ! 
They  infused  into  the  Church  of  England  many  elements  of  its 
present  character,  and  Bernard  Gilpin  was  their  legitimate  son, 
even  more  than  Bede  himself. 

In  the  library,  we  were  shown,  by  the  polite  dignitary  who 
was  our  guide,  many  antiquarian  and  literary  curiosities.  The 
stole  of  St.  Cuthbert,  taken  from  his  coffin,  and  some  needlework 
of  the  sister  of  Alfred,  were  of  the  number,  and  divers  manu- 
scripts, on  vellum,  of  great  beauty,  and  one  the  autograph  of 
Bede !  Some  modern  copes,  of  the  time  of  Charles  First,  were 
shown  us,  as  having  been  worn  in  Divine  Service,  in  the  cathe- 
dral, according  to  the  rubric,  till  Warburton  laid  them  aside. 
We  also  visited  the  University,  which  now  fills  the  old  castle  of 
Durham.  This  castle  was  built  by  William  the  Conqueror,  and 
was  long  the  residence  of  the  Bishops,  as  Lords  of  the  Palati- 
nate. Its  old  Norman  chapel  is  very  interesting,  and  the  modern 
fittings  are  in  good  taste  throughout,  and  turn  it  to  good  account. 
In  one  of  the  prebendal  houses,  we  found  the  Bishop  of  Exeter, 
a  prelate  of  great  distinction,  and  celebrated  for  making  warm 
friends  and  bitter  foes.  Canon  Townsend  gave  us  our  lunch,  at 
his  own  table,  and  warmly  eulogized  the  American  Church, 
which  he  designs  to  visit.  He  also  praised  our  country  and  its 
achievements.  His  burning  desire  seems  to  be  to  unite  all 
Christians,  once  more,  in  one  holy  fellowship  of  faith  and  wor- 
ship, and  it  was  in  this  spirit  that  he  visited  the  Vatican,  and  ex- 
horted the  Pope  to  repent.  It  was  the  last  testimony  to  Pius 
Ninth,  before  he  dared  to  commit  that  damning  sin  against 
Christian  charity,  on  the  8th  of  December,  1854.  In  my  opinion, 
Canon  Townsend  need  not  be  ashamed  of  having  preached  the 
Gospel  at  Rome  also. 


EPISCOPAL   THRONE.  293 

•  I  crossed  the  river  Wear,  and  gained  from  its  well-wooded 
bank,  the  best  view  of  the  cathedral.  It  rises  on  the  opposite 
bank,  high  over  the  stream,  like  part  of  the  rock  on  which  it  is 
built.  It  presents  the  appearance  of  entire  "  unify  with  itself." 
Massive  and  ponderous  dignity  invests  the  whole  pile,  and  with 
the  advantage  of  its  deep  descent  to  the  river,  I  know  not  where 
to  look  for  anything  that  seems  at  once  so  fixed  to  the  earth,  and 
yet  so  aspiring  in  its  gigantic  stretch  towards  heaven.  The 
cathedral  at  Fribourg,  in  Switzerland,  not  only  lacks  its  grandeur, 
but  is  too  far  from  the  elge  of  the  steep,  on  which  it  stands,  to 
derive  much  character  from  it.  Durham,  on  the  contrary,  grows 
out  of  the  cliff  itself,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  where  the  natural 
architecture  terminates,  and  art  begins. 

I  heard  the  service,  in  the  cathedral,  and  it  was  effectively  per- 
formed. From  preference,  I  occupied  the  extremity  of  the  nave, 
and  enjoyed  its  distant  effect.  The  Episcopal  throne,  in  tins 
cathedral,  is  a  great  curiosity.  Had  I  not  been  told  it  was 
a  throne,  I  should  have  said  it  was  a  gallery,  or  orchestra.  Its 
Btyle  is  altogether  curious,  and  oniqae  ;  but  I  should  think  his 
Lordship  would  prefer  any  place  in  the  cathedral,  to  such  a 
strange  eminence.  I  left  Durham,  with  great  regret  that  I 
could  not  linger  for  a  long  time,  amid  its  venerable  and  sacred 
attractions. 

A  good  portion  of  the  succeeding  day  was  given  to  Xewcastle- 
upon-Tyne,  its  smutty  old-town,  and  its  spruce  and  showy  new- 
town.  Here  is  Norman  England  on  one  hand,  and  England  of 
the  Reform-bill  on  the  other.  Standing  upon  one  of  its  lofty 
bridges,  I  surveyed  the  town,  and  the  river,  and  felt  more  pleased 
with  what  I  saw  than  I  had  supposed  it  possible  for  me  to  be 
with  such  a  coal-hole. 

Out  of  the  hole  I  climbed,  however,  to  the  height  on  which 
stands  its  old  castle,  built  by  Robert  Curthose,  son  of  William 
the  Conqueror.  It  is  a  dingy*  tower,  at  best ;  but  massive,  and 
full  of  historic  interest.  Its  chapel,  only  a  few  yards  square,  and 
dimly  lighted,  is  remarkable  for  some  of  the  finest  specimens  ex- 
tant, of  the  Saxon  arch.  Its  parts  are  distinctly  marked,  as 
chancel,  nave,  sacristy,  and  the  like  ;  but  it  is  more  like  the  cha- 
pel of  an  Inquisition,  than  of  a  royal  castle.  Several  rooms  in 
the  castle  are  filled  with  Roman  relies,  all  found  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  town ;  and  often,  when  I  afterwards  visited 
Rome,  and  thought  of  this  far  distant  place,  did  it  give  me  new 
ideas  of  her  ancient  power,  to  reflect  upon  her  identity  here  and 


294  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND 

there,  and  upon  the  skill  in  overcoming  difficulties,  which,  in  that 
barbarian  day,  made  her  to  be  felt  as  really  upon  the  Tyne,  as 
upon  the  Tiber.  I  saw  very  soon  the  same  marks  of  Roman  con- 
quest, far  away  in  Scotland,  near  Elgin,  and  Inverness. 

And  to  Scotland  I  now  made  my  way.  without  stopping.  Fly- 
ing through  Northumberland,  I  caught  many  glimpses  of  its 
scenery  and  antiquities,  about  Warkworth  and  Alnwick.  Far 
out  at  sea,  I  spied  the  lofty  bulk  of  Holy  Island,  or  Lindisfarne, 
the  Iona  of  England.  I  instinctively  bared  my  head  to  it.  At 
length  I  sighted  Berwick-upon-Tweed,  the  Amen  Come?'  of  Eng- 
land, where  the  Church  ceases,  and  the  Kirk  begins.  Anon,  I 
was  over  the  Border. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 


The  Lakes  and  the  Lakers. 

As  I  am  now  detailing  my  "  Impressions  of  England,"  I  must 
leave  out  my  Scottish  chapters,  for  Scotland  is  far  too  rich  in  mate- 
rial to  be  smuggled  into  the  world  under  any  cover  except  its  own. 
After  a  most  interesting  visit  to  this  romantic  land,  I  again  saw 
England  as  I  approached  the  Cumberland  mountains,  at  Ecele- 
fechan,  and  in  spite  of  my  delight  in  Caledonia,  I  somehow  felt 
that  it  was  home.  I  reached  "Gretna  Green"  from  a  direction 
the  opposite  of  that  which  is  the  fashion  for  runaways,  and  hence 
saw  nothing  of  <;  the  blacksmith  ;"  but  I  was  informed  that  he 
duly  posts  himself  at  the  station  when  the  train  approaches  from 
the  other  direction,  and  very  frequently  finds  customers.  It  is 
not  now  as  in  the  days  of  posting ;  and  if  a  brace  of  lovers  can 
make  sure  of  a  train  in  advance  of  pursuers,  they  are  quite  safe. 
The  next  train  may  bring  the  frantic  friends  and  parents ;  but 
the  wedding  is  already  performed,  according  to  the  barbarous  law 
of  North  Britain.  It  has  been  remarked  as  something  singular, 
if  not  disgraceful,  that  several  who  have  risen  to  be  Lord-Chan- 
cellors of  the  southern  kingdom,  were,  in  early  life,  married  in 
this  way.  After  a  moment's  pause  at  the  Gretna  station,  we  were 
whirled  across  the  Sark,  with  a  glimpse  of  the  Solway,  and  soon 
I  was  in  u  merrie  Carlisle."  I  entered  it,  thanks  be  to  Bishop 
Percy,  with  special  thoughts  of  "  Adam  Bell,  Clym  of  the  Clough, 
and  William  of  Cloudeslee."  The  poetry  of  the  town  is,  in  fact, 
concentrated  in  that  ballad  of  ballads.  As  a  border  town,  it  has 
always  been  subject  to  those  fearful  scenes  and  tragedies,  which 
only  war  creates :  and  its  history  is  a  romance,  from  the  days  of 
the  Conquest  to  those  of  the  Pretender,  Avhose  flag  once  waved 
on  its  walls.  It  is  charmingly  situated,  and  well  watered  by  its 
three  rivers ;  but  its  castle  and  its  cathedral  are  its  chief  objects 


296  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

of  interest,  and  offer  little  that  can  be  described  with  effect,  after 
a  review  of  more  striking  specimens  of  their  kind.  Among  the 
tombs  in  the  latter,  is  that  of  Archdeacon  Paley,  the  moralist, 
who  '''  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  conscience."  I  did  not  regard 
it  with  any  great  emotion.  The  adjacent  Deanery,  at  one  time 
inhabited  by  Bishop  Percy,  was  more  interesting  to  me,  for  what- 
ever he  may  have  been  as  a  bishop,  I  cannot  doubt  that  his  taste 
and  industry  in  literature  have  produced  a  vast  result  in  the 
poetry  and  letters  of  his  native  tongue.  I  have  often  amused 
myself,  not  only  with  his  "ballads"  themselves,  but  with  an 
effort  to  trace  their  immediate  and  remote  effects  on  the  taste, 
and  even  upon  the  genius  of  England.  They  are  very  striking, 
and  prove  what  may  be  the  lasting  results  of  a  very  humble  sort 
of  literary  enterprise,  when  it  is  founded  on  "  truths  that  wake 
to  perish  never." 

I  was  in  the  region  of  the  Lakes,  and  felt  upon  me  already  the 
powerful  influences  which  its  great  poets  have  left  it  for  an  heri- 
tage forever.  The  noble  range  of  the  Cumberlands  seemed  to 
lift  their  monumental  heads,  in  memory  of  Southey  and  Words- 
worth. I  went  to  Kendal,  and  sighted  the  castle  where  Katherine 
Parr  was  born,  but  was  glad  to  take  the  earliest  train  to  Bowness. 
Welcome  was  the  sight  of  Windermere,  brightly  reflecting  the 
evening  sky,  and  encircled  by  an  army  of  mountains,  lifting  their 
bristling  pikes  as  if  to  defend  it,  like  a  virgin  sister  in  her  loveli- 
ness. Who  can  forget  Dr.  Arnold's  enthusiastic  return  to  this 
dear  spot,  from  the  Continent :  his  just  comparison  of  its  charms 
with  those  of  foreign  scenes,  and  his  close  noting  of  the  very 
minutes  that  lingered  as  he  hasted  to  his  home  at  Fox  How  1 
To  me,  there  is  all  the  heart  of  poetry  in  his  honest  effusion  of 
genuine  English  feeling.  "  I  see  the  Old  Man  and  the  Langdale 
Pikes,  rising  behind  the  nearer  hills  so  beautifully !  We  open  on 
Windermere,  and  vain  it  is  to  talk  of  any  earthly  beauty  ever 
equalling  this  country,  in  my  eyes.  No  Mola  di  Gaeta,  no  Valley 
of  the  Yelino,  no  Salerno  or  Vietri  can  rival,  to  me,  this  Vale  of 
Windermere,  and  of  the  Kotha.  Here  it  lies  in  the  perfection 
of  its  beauty,  the  deep  shadows  on  the  unruffled  water;  and 
mingling  with  every  form,  and  sound,  and  fragrance,  comes  the 
full  thought  of  domestic  affections,  and  of  national  and  of  Chris- 
tian :  here  is  our  own  house  and  home :  here  are  our  own  coun- 
try's laws  and  language :  and  here  is  our  English  Church ! " 
Good  !  glorious !  every  word.  I  can  feel  it  all,  and  the  last 
words  more  than  he  did.     It  is  to  the  Church  that  England  owes 


LOYTOOD   INN.  297 

all  the  rest,  and  yet  that  palladium  (I  hate  the  word)  of  England's 
holiest,  and  dearest,  and  best  peculiarities,  he  would  fain  have 
Germanized  !  I  believe,  in  my  heart,  he  was  better  than  his 
theories,  and  would  have  been  the  first  to  shrink  from  his  own 
dreams  of  reform,  had  he  lived  to  see  them  coming  into  shape  as 
realities.  I  cannot  but  follow  his  speaking  memoranda: — 
"Arrived  at  Bowness,  8.20;  left  at  8.31 ;  passing  Ragrigg  Gate, 
8.37  ;  over  Troutbeck  Bridge,  8.51  ;  here  is  Ecclerigg,  8.58 ;  and 
here  Lowood  Inn,  9.04  and  30  seconds  !"  No  fast  man,  at  the 
Derby,  ever  held  his  watch  more  breathlessly ;  he  was  speeding 
home,  and  there  he  was  in  twenty  minutes  more,  at  his  own 
"  mended  gate,"  wife  and  darlings  all  round  papa,  and  so  ends 
his  journal !  Oh,  what  so  enviable  as  a  home,  just  here  !  My 
own  is  far  away — and  I  stop  at  Lowood  Inn,  grateful  for  such 
inns  as  England  only  affords,  and  proposing  to  spend  such  a  Sun- 
day as  England  only  hallows.  I  am  not  forgetful  of  my  own 
dear  land ;  I  love  her  Hudson,  as  I  can  never  love  even  an  Eng- 
lish lake;  but  the  janglings  of  a  Sunday  in  America,  the  unutter- 
able wretchedness  of  perpetuated  quarrels  among  Christians,  and 
all  the  sadness  of  religious  disunion,  in  its  last  stage  of  social 
disorganization,  take  away  my  sense  of  repose,  when  I  survey 
an  American  landscape,  and  the  spires  of  our  villages ;  and  who 
can  measure  the  indifference,  the  atheism,  and  the  godless  con- 
tempt for  truth  which  all  this  breeds?  Good  Lord  !  when  shall 
this  plague  of  locusts  disappear  from  our  sky  ?  When  shall  all 
Christians  who  love  Christ  in  truth  and  soberness,  agree  to  love 
one  another  ? 

At  Lowood  Inn  I  spent  sucli  a  Sunday,  as  I  had  promised  my- 
self, at  St.  Asaph.  A  morning  and  evening  walk,  by  the  lake, 
was  its  morning  and  evening  charm,  and  calm,  sweet  enjoyment 
of  the  service  was  its  substantial  blessing.  Here,  Southey's  words 
came  forcibly  to  mind,  as  I  recalled  the  common  worship,  in 
which  my  beloved  friends,  at  home,  were  uniting  with  me;  the 
Prayer-book  its  blessed  telegraph  ! 

14  Oh,  hold  it  holy  !   it  will  be  a  bond 
Of  love  and  brotherhood,  when  all  beside 
Hath  been  dissolved  ;   and  though  wide  ocean  roll 
Between  the  children  of  one  fatherland, 
This  ^hall  be  their  communion  :  they  shall  send, 
Linked  in  one  sacred  feeling,  at  one  hour, 
In  the  same  language,  the  same  prayer  to  heaven, 
And  each  remembering  each  in  piety, 
Pray  for  the  other's  welfare." 
18* 


298  IMPRESSIONS   OF    ENGLAND. 

Early  on  Monday  morning,  in  a  fairy-like  little  steamer,  I  made 
a  circuit  of  the  lake,  enjoying  fine  weather,  and  delightful  views. 
The  clouds  took  the  shape  of  everything  beautiful  during  the  day, 
now  hanging  over  the  "  Pikes,"  like  legions  of  angels,  and  now 
building  themselves  up  into  domes  and  cathedrals,  upon  the  sum- 
mits of  the  everlasting  hills.  As  for  the  lake  itself,  it  is  some- 
thing between  Lake  George  and  Cayuga  Lake :  its  scenery  in 
some  parts,  even  finer  than  the  finest  of  the  one,  and  its  tamer 
parts,  almost  always  equal  to  the  best  of  the  other.  Lake 
George,  however,  in  its  exceeding  wildness,  has  its  own  special 
charm  for  me ;  and  Windermere  is  too  artificially  beautiful,  on 
the  whole,  to  rival  it.  Towards  noon,  I  went,  by  coach,  to 
Grassmere,  passing  through  Ambleside,  and  by  the  late  residence 
of  Wordsworth,  and  enjoying  the  views  of  Rydalmere,  and 
Knab  Scaur,  and  then  of  Grassmere  itself,  with  its  sweet  church, 
deep  in  the  vale.  The  inn  at  Grassmere  is  well  placed,  on  a 
slight  ascent  from  the  valley,  and  provides  a  toothsome  repast  for 
the  tourist.  I  went  on  horse-back,  over  hill  and  dale,  to  "  Dun- 
geon Ghyll,"  a  cataract  well  known  to  readers  of  Wordsworth, 
but  less  interesting  in  itself,  though  curious  as  well  as  pretty,  than 
the  scenery  through  which  one  passes  to  get  there.  The  moun- 
tain ranges,  and  peaks,  as  they  come  into  sight,  and  seem  to  shift 
their  positions,  are  sufficient,  I  should  think,  to  make  the  region 
ever  new  in  its  peculiar  attractions,  especially  when  one  takes 
into  account  the  endless  variety  imparted  to  such  scenes  by  the 
different  seasons,  hours  of  the  day,  states  of  the  atmosphere,  and 
conditions  of  sky  and  clouds.  Wise  poets  were  these  Lakers  ! 
And  how  "Kit  North"  must  have  revelled  in  these  palaces  of 
nature !  As  I  slowly  returned,  I  caught  my  last  glimpse  of  Win- 
dermere, and  then  saw  the  vale  of  Grassmere,  in  its  evening 
beauty.  Arrived  at  the  churchyard,  I  sought  the  grave  of 
AVords worth.  A  plain  grave,  and  his  name  merely.  The  river 
rushing  by  lulls  his  repose.  A  carriage  drove  up,  and  seeing  a 
female  mourner  approach,  attended  by  a  servant,  or  waiting- 
maid,  I  withdrew,  and  pretended  to  be  otherwise  engaged.  The 
lady  scattered  flowers  on  the  grave  of  the  poet,  and  stood  there 
awhile,  musing.  It  was  his  widow;  and  when  she  had  left 
the  sacred  spot,  I  returned,  and  admired  the  fragrant  and  beauti- 
ful tokens  of  her  affection,  which,  as  I  learned,  she  every  day 
renews.  I  gathered  some  wild  flowers,  growing  by  the  grave, 
and  resolved  to  bear  them  to  Keswick,  and  leave  them  on  the 
grave  of  South  ey.     This  pilgrimage  I  was  determined  to  make,  on 


COCKNEYS.  299 

foot ;  and  having  arranged  for  my  luggage  to  be  sent  to  a  con- 
venient point,  I  started  accordingly,  late  in  the  afternoon,  with  a 
walk  of  twelve  miles  before  me ;  to  do  which.  I  gave  myself  three 
hoars  for  the  walking,  and  one  for  resting  and  idling.  I  expected 
to  reach  Keswick  by  early  moonlight,  for  the  moon  was  new,  and 
the  days  long.  Mine  host  thought  it  too  late  for  a  start,  alter  a 
fatiguing  day ;  but  I  had  practised  in  Scotland,  and  knew  my 
strength,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  spot  was  such  that  I  felt  no 
weariness.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the  flow 
of  spirits  with  which  I  began  and  ended  this  walk.  Passing 
Helm  Crag,  I  decided  that  the  "  old  woman"  on  the  top,  is  far 
more  like  a  millenial  group,  in  colossal  sculpture,  for  it  greatly 
resembles  a  lion  with  a  lamb  in  its  embrace.  At  every  step, 
Wordsworth  and  Southey  revive  in  memory ;  every  pebble  seems 
to  have  attracted  their  love,  and  taken  its  place  in  their  poetry. 
After  a  long,  but  gradual  ascent,  we  reach  the  cairn  that  covers 
King  Dunmail's  bones,  and  looking  back  at  the  charming  view, 
say  farewell  to  Grassmere.  In  the  distance,  ahead,  what  looms 
up  I  The  guide-book  says  Skiddaw.  There  once  lived  Southey; 
there  now  he  sleeps.  As  I  left  this  neighbourhood,  I  observed 
to  my  surprise,  another  group  on  the  mountain,  in  all  respects 
like  the  "  old  woman,"  only  turned  the  other  way.  Both  are 
formed  by  loose  rocks  on  the  height  of  the  mountain ;  but  I  have 
seen  no  mention  of  this  one.  And  now  my  way  lay  along  the 
base  of  the  "  mighty  Helvellyn."  The  road  was  easy  to  the  foot, 
and  innumerable  are  its  charms.  I  came  to  the  lovely  Thirlmere, 
or  Leatheswater :  the  views  of  the  surrounding  crags,  and  of  the 
water  itself,  wearing  a  more  beautiful  aspect,  for  the  hour  and 
the  departing  daylight.  Blue-bells  were  everywhere  growing  by 
the  road,  in  handfulls.  I  stopped  to  examine  a  stone  which 
seems  to  record  the  death  of  a  Quaker's  favourite  horse.  A  car- 
riage came  along,  which  proved  to  be  full  of  cockney  tourists. 
One  of  them  descended  and  read,  as  follows: — "Thirtieth  of 
ninth  month,  1843  ; 

Fallen  from  'is  fellow's  side, 

The  steed  beneath  (h)is  lying  ; 
(H)in  'arness  'ere  *e  died, 

'Is  (h)only  fault  was  dying." 

The  pathos  with  which  these  words  were  uttered  was  truly 
Pickwickian,  and  the  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous  was 
so  effectually  taken  by  my  feelings,  that  for  a  long  way  beyond, 


800  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

Helvellyn  re-echoed  to  my  laughter.  Passing  Thirlmere,  the 
sweet  vale  of  St.  John  opened  a  bewitching  prospect,  and  I  loved 
it  for  its  name.  Leaving  it  on  my  right,  I  then  turned  toward 
Keswick,  and  as  the  last  light  of  day  disappeared,  there,  before 
me,  lay  Derwentwater,  the  new  moon  shedding  a  tremulous  light 
on  its  bosom.  This,  then,  was  Southey's  own  Keswick,  and 
Skiddaw  rose  over  head  !  I  slept  soundly  and  sweetly  at  the 
"  Royal  Oak." 

In  the  morning,  I  took  a  barge,  and  was  rowed  round  the 
lake,  which  did  not  disappoint  me.  One  of  the  men  had  been  a 
servant  of  Southey's,  and  he  told  me  many  anecdotes  of  his 
master.  "  Yonder,  it  seems  to  me,  I  can  see  him  now,"  said  the 
fellow,  "  walking  with  a  book  in  his  hand."  He  described  him 
as  good  to  the  poor,  and  said,  "  he  often  gave  five  shillings,  at  a 
time,  to  my  mother."  In  wet  weather  he  still  took  the  air,  and 
walked  well  on  clogs.  I  was  much  charmed  with  the  islets  of 
the  lake,  and  the  singular  traditions  which  invest  them  all  with 
so  much  interest.  The  romantic  stories  of  the  unfortunate 
family  of  Derwentwater,  whose  earls  were  attainted  for  their 
share  in  the  Pretender's  rebellion,  are  partly  connected  with  one 
of  these  islands,  and  the  lake  itself  seems  made  for  a  scene  of 
romance.  Windermere  is  not  to  be  compared  with  it.  I  was 
rowed  to  Lodore,  and  saw  "how  the  water  comes  down." 
Sometimes  'tis  a  mere  burlesque  of  the  poem ;  but  I  saw  it  in  full 
force,  and  entirely  justifying  all  the  participles  which  the  genius 
of  Southey  has  contrived  to  set  going,  like  a  cataract,  out  of  the 
fountain  of  his  brain.  After  this,  I  swam  in  the  lake,  tempted 
to  do  so  by  the  double  attraction  of  its  pellucid  waters,  and  its 
Castalian  associations. 

I  visited  Southey's  grave,  in  Crosthwaite  churchyard.  'Twas 
solemn  to  see  the  grass  growing,  and  its  tall  spears  shaking  in  the 
breeze,  over  the  head  of  that  fine  genius,  and  the  heart  of  that 
good  and  faithful  man.  In  the  church,  where  he  so  often  prayed, 
a  superb  statue  of  the  poet  lies,  at  full  length,  on  an  altar-tomb. 
I  placed  in  the  marble  hand  the  flowers  I  had  brought  from  the 
grave  of  Wordsworth,  a  tribute  to  their  friendship,  and  a  token 
of  my  homage  for  both.  Great  and  good  men ;  they  were  the 
"lucida  sidera"  of  English  literature,  in  a  dark  and  evil  time; 
and  now  that  their  sweet  influence  has  triumphed  over  the 
clouds  and  vapours  which  obscured  their  first  rising,  how  calmly 
they  shine,  in  heaven,  and  brighten  the  scenes  they  have  left 
behind  ! 


GIANT  OWEN.  301 

Greta  Hall,  the  poet's  Jate  residence,  stands  a  little  back  from 
the  road,  in  the  shadow  of  Skiddaw.  I  paid  a  visit  to  a  daughter 
of  the  bard,  who  loves  to  linger  near  her  father's  grave ;  and  it 
was  delightful  to  observe  the  simplicity  with  which  she  entered 
into  the  enthusiasm  of  a  pilgrim  to  that  shrine  of  her  affections. 
The  aged  Mrs.  Lovel,  whose  name  is  familiar  to  the  readers  of 
Coleridge,  and  his  contemporaries,  also  allowed  me  to  be  present- 
ed to  her.  It  was  affecting  to  see  a  group  of  Southey's  lovely 
little  grand-children  with  her,  in  mourning  for  a  mother.  They 
are  richer  in  the  heritage  of  his  name  and  character  than  if  they 
were  the  heirs  of  the  Derwentwaters,  and  restored  to  all  their 
honours  and  estates. 

By  coach  to  Penrith,  by  the  vale  of  St.  John,  and  Hutton- 
moor.  On  the  moor,  I  saw  a  cottage,  with  an  inscription  too 
deep  for  me,  of  which  my  reader  shall  have  the  benefit.  It  was 
this : — 

M1.W. 

This  building's  age,  these  letters  show, 

Though  many  gaze,  yet  few  will  know. 

MD.CCXIX." 

A  Waltonian  puzzle  in  its  quaintness,  not  to  speak  of  the  initials! 
Driving  by  Graystoke,  in  which  is  an  old  town-cross,  Ave  had  a 
sight  of  its  church  and  castle.  But  two  odd-looking  farm-houses, 
which  we  passed,  presenting  at  a  distance  the  appearance  of  forts, 
surprised  me  more,  by  their  American  names,  "  Mount  Putnam," 
and  "  Bunker-hill."  They  were  built  and  named  soon  after  the 
battle :  and  the  whip  laughed  as  he  slyly  surmised,  that  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  to  whom  they  belong,  "  must  have  been  afraid 
the  'Mericans  were  coming  over."  At  Penrith,  I  visited  the  ex- 
traordinary grave  in  the  churchyard,  called  the  Giant's.  Its  his- 
tory is  lost  in  the  obscure  of  antiquity ;  but  one  Owen  is  said  to 
lie  there,  at  full  length,  the  head  and  footstones  being  fifteen  feet 
apart.  The  stones  are  tall  needles,  of  curious  form,  and  covered 
with  Runic  carvings  and  unintelligible  words.  Not  far  from 
Penrith,  are  some  ancient  caverns,  marked  by  traces  of  gigantic 
inhabitants,  such  as  iron-gratings,  and  other  relics  worthy  of  the 
habitation  of  Giant  Despair. 

Next  morning,  we  were  favoured  with  a  brilliant  sky  and  cool 
breeze,  and  I  took  the  top  of  the  coach  for  a  drive  across  the 
country,  through  Westmoreland,  into  Yorkshire.  A  sweet  odour 
of  hay-making  filled  the  air  as  we  started ;  and  soon  we  had  fine 
views  of  Brougham-hall,  and  castle,  with  a  small  adjoining  park. 


302  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

A  more  interesting  object  to  me  wa§  a  small  column,  by  the 
roadside,  celebrated  by  Wordsworth,  called  the  Countess  of  Pem- 
broke's Pillar.  It  was  erected  in  the  evil  days  of  Cromwell,  not 
to  celebrate  a  battle,  or  a  crime,  but  as  a  monument  of  love.  On 
that  spot,  in  her  better  days,  the  Lady  Anne  Clifford  had  parted, 
for  the  last  time,  with  her  beloved  mother,  the  Countess  Dowager 
of  Pembroke,  and  she  therefore  caused  this  stone  to  be  set  as  a 
memorial,  and  inscribed  accordingly.  But  she  did  yet  more,  for 
hard  by  is  a  stone  table,  on  which  the  anniversary  of  that  part- 
ing is  annually  celebrated  by  a  dole  of  bread  to  the  poor  of  the 
parish  of  Brougham,  to  pay  for  which  she  left  the  annual  sum  of 
four  pounds  to  the  church  forever.  This  is  giving  a  stone  to 
those  who  ask  bread,  in  an  orthodox  way.  The  inscription  ends 
with  Laus  Deo ;  and  my  heart  responded  in  the  manner  which 
Wordsworth  suggests.  "Many  a  stranger,"  he  says,  "though 
no  clerk,  has  responded  Amen,  as  he  passed  by."  Our  drive  con- 
tinued a  pleasant  one  till  we  came  to  Appleby,  an  interesting  old 
town,  through  which  runs  the  river  Eden.  In  its  church  are 
monuments  of  the  Lady  Anne  Clifford  and  her  mother.  At 
Brough,  we  came  to  an  old  castle,  erected  before  the  Conquest. 
Its  church  has  a  pulpit,  hewn  of  a  single  stone ;  and  they  tell  a 
good  story  of  its  bells.  A  worthy  drover  of  the  adjoining  moors, 
once  brought  a  fine  lot  of  cattle  to  market,  promising  to  make 
them  bellow  all  together,  and  to  be  heard  from  Brough  to 
Appleby.  Accordingly  with  the  money  they  sold  for,  he  gave 
the  parish  a  peal  of  bells,  which  constantly  fulfils  his  vow.  He 
deserves  to  be  imitated  by  richer  men.  At  Brough  the  coach 
left  me,  and  I  took  a  post-chaise  over  the  dreary  region  of  Stain- 
muir ;  dreary,  just  then,  but  not  so  in  the  sporting-season,  when 
the  moor  is  alive  with  hunters  and  fowlers.  At  Bowes,  again, 
emerging  from  the  moorlands,  we  came  to  the  remains  of  a  cas- 
tle, and  to  the  less  interesting  relics  of  a  school,  which  had  dis- 
appeared under  the  influence  of  a  general  conviction,  that  it  was 
the  original  "  Dotheboys  Hall."  A  dull  place  is  Bowes ;  but 
striking  over  a  rugged  country,  northward,  I  came  soon  into  the 
charming  valley  of  the  Tees,  and  so  arrived  at  the  secluded  church 
and  parsonage  of  Romaldkirk,  on  a  visit  to  a  clergyman,  wrho  bear- 
ing my  maternal  name,  and  deriving  from  the  same  lineage,  in 
times  long  past,  yet  claimed  me  as  a  relative,  and  welcomed  me 
as  a  brother.  I  found  a  missionary  from  India,  addressing  a  few  of 
his  parishioners,  in  an  adjoining  school-house,  and  there  I  first 
saw  my  hospitable  friend,  and  joined  with  him  in  the  solemnities 


RICHMOND.  303 

of  a  missionary  meeting,  among  a  few  of  the  neighbouring  peasan- 
try. With  this  estimable  clergyman,  and  his  family,  I  tarried  till 
the  third  day,  enjoying  greatly  their  attentive  hospitalities,  and 
trying  to  catch  trout  in  the  Tees.  The  very  sound  of  this  rush- 
ing river  recalled  the  story  of  Rokeby,  and  amid  its  overhanging 
foliage,  I  almost  fancied  I  could  see  skulking  the  pirate-figure  of 
Bertram  Bisingham. 

I  was  not  allowed  to  leave  this  happy  roof  unattended.  The 
eldest  son  of  the  family,  a  young  Cantab,  took  me  more  than 
twenty  miles,  to  Richmond,  through  a  most  romantic  country, 
allowing  me  to  visit  the  ruins,  near  Rokeby,  and  to  stop  at  many 
interesting  spots.  "We  journeyed  through  Barnard  Castle,  and  by 
Egglestone  Abbey,  and  met  with  several  adventures  in  our 
"  search  of  the  picturesque,"  but  at  last  emerged  into  the  surpris- 
ing scenery  of  Richmond,  which  I  found  beautiful  beyond  all 
that  its  name  implies,  and  not  unworthy  of  sharing  it  with  its 
southern  namesake,  on  the  Thames.  It  is  the  older  of  the  two, 
and  is  remarkable  for  something  more  than  beauty.  It  has 
a  touch  of  grandeur  about  it.  and  the  ruins  of  its  old  historic 
castle,  on  the  banks  of  the  Swale,  full  of  traditions  of  feudal 
sovereignty,  and  still  massive  and  venerable  in  appearance,  give 
an  imposing  air  of  majesty  to  the  town.  The  aspect  of  the  val- 
ley of  the  Swale  is  almost  American,  in  its  wildness,  in  many 
parts,  and  I  keenly  relished  even  my  railway  journey  through 
a  region  so  inviting  to  delay.  I  made  my  way  to  Leeds,  where, 
amid  smoke,  and  much  that  is  disagreeable,  stands  the  interesting 
Church  of  St.  Mary's,  lately  renewed  and  beautified  by  its  faith- 
ful vicar.  Dr.  Hook.  I  had  barely  time  to  visit  this  sacred  place, 
and  contenting  myself  with  having  sighted  Kirkstall  Abbey,  in 
the  vale  of  Aire,  I  continued  my  journey  to  my  first  English 
home,  in  Warwickshire.  The  glimpses  of  Derbyshire  scenery 
which  I  enjoyed,  in  my  rapid  journey,  were  full  of  beauty :  and 
the  mishap  of  losing  a  trunk,  gave  me  the  opportunity  of  putting 
to  the  test  the  fidelity  of  the  English  railway  sysfem.  As  soon 
as  I  discovered  that  some  blunder  had  been  committed,  I  inform- 
ed the  guard,  and  at  the  first  station,  telegraphic  messages  were 
despatched,  and  in  a  short  time  my  trunk  followed  me  to  the  par- 
sonage, where  I  passed  the  Sunday  with  my  friend. 


CHAPTER    XXXI  V. 


Cowper. — Greenwich. 

More  than  once  have  I  betrayed,  in  the  course  of  my  narra- 
tive, a  strong  affection  for  the  name  and  memory  of  Cowper. 
To  his  poetry  and  letters,  I  was  introduced  in  early  childhood, 
by  the  admiring  terms  in  which  a  beloved  parent  often  quoted 
and  criticised  them  ;  and  no  subsequent  familiarity  with  them  has, 
in  the  least,  impaired  my  relish  for  their  peculiar  charms.  I  re- 
gard him  as  the  regenerator  of  English  poetry,  and  as  the  morn- 
ing-star of  all  that  truly  illustrates  the  nineteenth  century.  A 
gentle  but  powerful  satirist  of  the  evils  of  his  own  times,  he 
was  a  noble  agent  in  the  hand  of  God,  for  removing  them,  and 
making  way  for  a  great  restoration.  "Without  dreaming  of  his 
mission,  he  was  a  prime  mover  in  the  great  action  which  has 
thrown  off  the  lethargy  of  Hanoverianism,  and  awakened  the 
Church  of  England  to  world-wide  enterprises  of  goodj  and 
though  the  injudicious  counsels  of  good  John  Newton  gave  a  turn 
to  his  piety,  which  may  well  be  deplored  in  its  consequences  upon 
himself,  it  is  ground  for  rejoicing  that  the  influences  of  the  Church 
upon  his  own  good  taste,  were  strong  enough  to  rescue  his  con- 
tributions to  literature  from  the  degrading  effects  of  religious 
enthusiasm.  If  any  one  will  take  the  trouble  to  compare  "  the 
Task  "  with  such  a  production  as  Pollok's  "  Course  of  time,"  he 
will  be  struck  with  the  force  of  my  remark,  for  there  the  same 
enthusiasm  exibits  itself  as  developed  by  sectarianism.  I  was 
surprised  to  find  how  many  places  in  England  were  fraught  with 
recollections  of  this  retired  and  sedentary  poet.  A  distant  view 
of  St.  Alban's,  the  banks  of  the  Ouse,  the  churchyard  of  St. 
Margaret's,  and  the  school-room,  at  Westminster,  the  gardens  of 
the  Temple,  and  the  little  village  of  St.  Neot's  all  recalled  him  to 


AXTI-SXOBBERY.  305 

mind,  in  his  various  moods,  of  suffering  and  dejection.  Even  the 
ruins  of  Netley  Abbey  revived  his  memory,  for  there  he  seems  to 
have  been  filled  with  novel  emotions,  as  an  unwonted  tourist, 
with  whom  romantic  scenes  were  far  from  familiar.  The  oppo- 
site pole  of  poetic  association  became  electric  in  Cheapside,  where 
so  many  John  Gilpins  still  keep  shop,  if  they  do  not  "  ride 
abroad."  But  I  frequently  passed,  on  the  railway,  a  village  in 
Hertfordshire,  which  is  invested  with  memories  of  a  more  elevat- 
ed and  affecting  character.  It  was  not  only  the  birth-place  of 
the  poet,  (as  well  as  of  Bishop  Ken,)  but  its  church-tower  i»  that 
from  which  he  heard  the  bell  tolled  on  the  burial-day  of  his 
mother.  Its  parsonage  was  the  scene  of  all  those  maternal  ten- 
dernesses, which  he  has  so  touchingly  celebrated ;  and  who  that 
lias  shared  the  love  of  a  Christian  mother,  can  fail  to  reverence 
the  bard,  who  has  so  inimitably  enshrined,  in  poetry,  the  best 
and  holiest  instincts  of  the  human  heart,  as  exhibited  in  the  mu- 
tual loves  of  the  mother  and  her  son  ?  I  could  not  leave 
England  without  first  paying  a  pilgrimage  to  those  scenes  of  his 
maturer  life,  which  have  become  classic  from  their  frequent  men- 
tion in  his  poems. 

As  I  was  taking  my  ticket  for  a  second-class  passage  to  the 
nearest  point  on  the  railway  to  Olney,  I  happened  to  meet  a 
gentleman  who  had  just  bought  his,  and  with  whom  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  some  acquaintance.  Knowing  him  to  be  connected, 
by  marriage  and  position,  with  some  of  the  most  aristocratic 
families  in  the  kingdom,  1  very  naturally  said  to  him — "I'm 
going  the  same  way  with  you.  but  shall  lose  the  pleasure  of  your 
company,  for  I've  only  a  second-class  ticket."  I  was  amused  with 
his  answer: — "Yes,  for  I've  only  a  third-class  ticket."  He 
briefly  explained  that  he  was  forced  to  economize,  and  that, 
although  he  did  not  like  it,  the  inconvenience  of  a  seat  among  a 
low-class  of  people,  for  a  short  time,  was  not  so  intolerable  as  a 
collapsed  purse,  "especially"  he  added,  "as  I  am  thus  enabled 
to  travel  in  the  first-class  carriages  when  I  travel  with  my  wife." 
Such  is  the  independence  as  to  action,  and  the  freedom  as  to  con- 
fession of  economy,  which  characterize  a  well-bred  man,  whose 
position  in  society  is  settled ;  and  I  could  not  but  think  how 
snobbish,  in  the  contrast,  is  the  conduct  of  many  of  my  own 
countrymen,  who,  if  they  ever  use  prudence,  in  their  expenses, 
are  afraid  to  have  it  known.  An  aristocracy  of  money  is  not 
only  contemptible  in  itself,  but  it  curses  a  land  with  a  universal 
shame  of  seeming  prudent.     It  makes  the  dollared  upstart  fancy 


£06  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

himself  a  gentleman,  while  the  true  gentleman  is  degraded  in  his 
own  eyes,  as  well  as  in  the  estimation  of  the  vulgar,  by  the  fact, 
that  his  house  is  small,  his  furniture  plain,  and  his  table  frugal. 
Hence  so  much  upholstery  in  America ;  so  much  hotel-life ;  and 
such  a  contempt  for  quiet  respectability. 

This  anecdote  is  not  out  of  place  in  a  chapter  devoted  to 
Cowper.  The  poet  was  a  man  of  gentle  blood,  and,  in  every 
sense  of  the  word,  a  gentleman.  Many  an  English  nobleman  is 
vastly  inferior  to  him  in  point  of  extraction.  He  was  descended 
from  the  blood-royal  of  Henry  Third,  and  in  divers  ways  was 
allied  to  the  old  aristocracy  of  England.  He  used  to  be  visited 
at  Olney,  by  persons  of  quality,  in  their  chariots ;  and  titled 
ladies  were  glad  to  accept  his  hospitalities.  But  his  home  at  Ol- 
ney, where  he  lived  for  years,  was  one  of  the  humblest  in  the 
place,  and  even  his  darling  residence,  at  Weston,  was  such  a  dwel- 
ling as  most  country-parsons  would  consider  barely  comfortable. 
Now,  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  John  Bull  prefers  such  an 
establishment  for  a  gentlemen's  habitation ;  but  I  do  mean  that 
nobody  in  England  would  be  so  insane  as  to  think  less  of  a 
gentleman,  for  living  thus  humbly,  especially  if  he  lived  so  from 
principle. 

As  I  came  to  Newport-Pagnel,  a  respectable  elderly  person 
drove  by,  in  an  open  carriage,  whom  the  whip  pointed  out  to  me 
as  Mr.  Bull ;  the  son  of  Cowper' s  old  friend,  whom  he  delighted 
to  call  his  dear  Taurus.  Having  a  few  minutes  to  spare  in  the 
place,  and  a  proper  introduction,  I  called  at  his  house,  and  was  glad 
to  be  shown  a  portrait  of  the  venerable  personage  himself — the 
"smoke-inhaling  Bull"  of  the  Letters.  A  lady  of  the  family 
politely  gave  me  all  needed  directions,  but  assured  me  I  should 
be  greatly  disappointed  in  Olney,  where  "  there  was  nothing  to 
see  but  old  houses,  and  a  general  aspect  of  decay."  I  said — '  Yes, 
but  the  house  is  there — and  the  summer-house — and  the  spire — 
and  the  bridge  V  I  was  answered  that  these  were  yet  remaining, 
though  somewhat  the  worse  for  wear  and  weather ;  and  so,  hav- 
ing succeeded  in  hiring  a  horse,  off  I  went,  alone.  As  I  ap- 
proached the  neighbourhood  of  Olney,  the  first  truly  Cowperish 
sight  that  struck  me — and  I  had  never  seen  such  a  sight  before 
in  my  life — was  a  living  illustration  of  his  lines : — 

"  Yon  cottager  that  weaves  at  her  own  door, 
Pillow  and  bobbins,  all  her  little  store  !" 

She  little  knew  how  much  pleasure  the  sight  of  her  gave  to  a 


cowper's  summer-house.  307 

passing  stranger,  -with  whom  her  art  had  been  rendered  poeti- 
cally beautiful,  by  the  charms  of  Cowper's  verse.  This  is,  in 
fact,  the  secret  of  his  spell  as  a  poet,  the  power  of  investing  even 
homely  things,  in  real  life,  with  a  certain  fascinating  attractive- 
ness. He  avoids  the  romantic  and  the  poetical,  in  choosing  his 
themes ;  but  he  elevates  what  is  common  to  a  dignity  and  beauty 
unknown  before.  He  is  the  most  English  of  English  bards,  and  I 
love  him  for  teaching  me  to  see  a  something  even  in  the  English 
poor,  which  makes  them,  to  me,  vastly  more  interesting  than  the 
romantic;  peasantry  of  Italy.  True,  the  latter  tread  the  vintage, 
and  the  other  only  stack  the  corn;  but  the  English  cottage  has 
the  Bible  in  it,  and  its  children  learn  the  Ten  Commandments, 
and  also  learn  that  "  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness ;"  while  in 
Italy,  among  fleas  and  other  vermin,  the  idle  parents  sit  lazily  in 
the  sun,  and  the  children  run  after  the  travellers  coach-wheel, 
lying  while  they  beg,  and  showing  by  their  religious  vocabulary, 
that  Bacchus  and  Maria  are  confounded  in  their  imagination  as 
saints  of  the  same  calendar. 

At  length  I  saw  the  spire  of  Olney,  and  soon  I  crossed  the 
bridge,  over  whose  "wearisome,  but  needful  length,"  used  to 
come  the  news  from  London,  to  solace  Cowper's  winter  evenings. 
I  was  not  long  in  finding  the  poet's  most  unpoetical  home,  now 
occupied  by  a  petty  shop-keeper,  who  has  turned  his  parlour  into 
a  stall.  Here  lie  lived,  however,  and  here  he  sang :  here,  mother- 
ly Mrs.  Unwin  made  tea  for  him,  and  Lady  Austen  gave  him 
"  the  sofa"  for  his  "  Task."  Under  these  stairs  once  lodged  Puss, 
Tiney,  and  Bess ;  those  happy  hares  which,  alone  of  their  kind, 
have  had  a  local  habitation,  and  will  always  have  a  name.  In  the 
garden,  I  saw  where  the  cucumber-vine  used  to  grow,  and  where 
Puss  used  to  ruminate  beneath  its  leaves,  like  Jonah  under  his 
gourd.  An  apple-tree  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  "  set  by  Mr. 
Cowper's  own  hands."  The  garden  has  been  pieced  off,  and  to 
see  the  "  summer-house,"  I  was  forced  to  enter,  by  a  neighbour's 
leave,  another  enclosure.  Here  is  the  little  nestling-place  of 
Cowper's  poesy — the  retreat  where  his  Egeria  came  to  him.  In 
the  fence,  is  still  the  wicket  he  made,  to  let  him  into  the  parson- 
age-grounds, when  Newton  was  his  confessor.  '  Here,  then,'  I 
said,  'one  may  fancy  the  lily  and  the  rose,  growing  in  rivalry; 
and  another  rose  just  unshed  in  a  shower;  and  the  sound  of'  the 
church-going  bell,  and  a  thousand  other  minute  matters  in  them- 
selves, all  taking  their  place  in  the  poetic  magazine  of  Cowper, 
and  so  coming  into  verse,  through  his  brain,  as  the  mulberry  leaf 


£08  IMPRESSIONS   OF   ENGLAND. 

becomes  silk,  by  another  process  of  spinning.'     It  was  a  small 
field  for  such  a  harvest,  and  yet  "the  Task"  grew  here. 

And  now,  another  mile  brought  me  to  the  more  agreeable 
"Weston-Underwood,  the  resort  of  all  his  walking  days  at 
Olney,  and  the  dear  retreat  of  his  later  life ;  the  dearer,  because 
bestowed  by  the  lovely  Lady  Hesketh.  This  is,  indeed,  a  resi- 
dence worthy  of  a  poet,  and  though  all  who  once  rendered  it  so 
charming  to  Cowper  have  passed  away,  I  was  agreeably  surpris- 
ed to  find  no  important  feature  changed.  A  painful  identity  be- 
longs to  it :  you  recognize,  at  every  step,  the  fidelity  of  the  poet's 
descriptive  powers,  and  it  seems  impossible  that  he  who  has  made 
the  scene  part  of  himself,  has  been  for  half  a  century  in  his 
grave,  while  all  this  survives.  You  enter  the  desolate  park  of 
the  Throckmortons,  and  there  is  "the  alcove,"  with  its  com- 
manding view,  so  dear  to  the  poet's  eye,  and  Olney  spire  in  the  dis- 
tance. You  pass  into  "  the  Wilderness,"  now  a  wilderness 
indeed,  for  it  is  neglected  and  overgrown.  Here  are  a  couple  of 
urns,  now  green  with  moss,  and  lovingly  clasped  by  ivy,  but  each 
marked  with  "familiar  names,  and  graced  by  Cowper's  playful 
verse.  The  one  adorns  the  grave  of  "  Neptune,"  Sir  John  Throck- 
morton's pointer;  the  other  is  the  monument  of  "  Fop,"  his 
lady's  favourite  spaniel.  I  hailed  this  memorial  of  "Lady 
Frog's"  pet;  but  was  far  more  moved  to  descry,  before  long,  at 
the  end  of  a  flowery  alley,  the  antique  bust  of  Homer,  which 
Cowper  so  greatly  valued,  and  to  which  he  gave  a  Greek  inscrip- 
tion, which  Hayley  was  proud  to  do  into  English  : — 

"  The  sculptor  1     Nameless  though  once  dear  to  fame  ; 
But  this  man  bears  an  everlasting  name." 

Here,  then,  that  "  stricken  deer  that  left  the  herd,"  was  led  to 
a  sweet  covert  at  last,  and  went  in  and  out,  and  found  pasture, 
under  the'  guidance  of  one  "  who  had  himself  been  hurt  by  the 
archers."  With  what  enchantment  these  haunts  of  hallowed 
genius  inspired  me !  And  yet  never  felt  I  so  melancholy  before. 
The  utter  loneliness  of  the  scene ;  the  fact  that  they  who  had 
bestowed  its  charm,  were  all,  long  ago,  dead ;  and  then  that 
painful  reality — everything  else  there,  as  it  should  be ;  the  Task, 
no  poem,  but  a  verity,  and  before  my  eyes ;  but  Cowper,  Hayley, 
Austen,  Hesketh,  all  gone  forever ;  these  thoughts  were  oppres- 
sive. I  sat  down,  and  almost  wept,  as  I  repeated  the  names  of 
those  who  were  so  "  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,"  and  who 
now  are  undivided  in  death !     It  was  an  hour  of  deeper  feeling 


the  poet's  Farewell.  309 

than  I  bad  realized  before,  at  any  shrine  of  departed  genius,  in 
England. 

I  went  to  the  house,  and  rejoiced  in  the  comfort  it  must  have 
afforded  Cowper,  in  his  latter  days.  It  is  neat  and  comfortable, 
and  the  village  is  a  pretty  one,  trim  and  thrifty  in  its  look,  and 
sufficiently  poetical.  It  has  "  an  air  of  snug  concealment,"  which 
must  have  been  most  congenial  to  its  gifted  inhabitant,  and  it 
was  not  unsuited  to  his  fondness  for  receiving  his  friends  as 
guests.  I  went  into  the  poet's  chamber,  and  also  into  that  which 
Lady  Hesketh  used  to  occupy.  In  the  former,  there  is  a  sad 
autograph  of  the  poet,  in  lead-pencil,  behind  a  window-shutter. 
The  window  had  been  walled  up,  and  only  lately  re-opened, 
when  the  pencilling  was  found.  It  is  one  of  the  poet's  last 
performances — an  adieu  to  Weston,  written  there,  as  he  left  it 
forever : — 

"  Farewell  dear  scenes  forever  closed  to  me, 
O  for  what  sorrows  must  I  now  exchange  ye  !"' 

No  wonder  he  lamented  a  departure  from  such  a  retreat,  into 
nearer  proximity  to  the  bad  world.  Walking  in  the  park, 
beneath  its  avenue  of  ancient  limes,  I  envied  the  nibbling  Hocks 
that  were  straying  about,  and  the  cattle  that  were  reclining  in 
their  shade.  So  peaceful !  If  life  were  given  us  for  ignoble 
devotion  to  self,  I  know  of  nothing  within  reach  of  a  clergy- 
man's humble  fortune  to  which  I  should  more  ardently  aspire, 
than  such  an  abode  as  Weston,  where  a  golden  mean  between 
what  is  common  and  what  is  poetical  in  scenery,  and  situation, 
still  offers  every  inducement  to  a  man  of  taste  to  settle  down, 
and  live  contentedly ;  or,  like  Walton,  ';  to  serve  God,  and  go  a 
fishing." 

On  returning  to  London,  I  was  rejoiced  to  meet  an  old  and  in- 
timate friend,  from  America,  whose  genius  has  given  him  distinc- 
tion, at  home  and  abroad — Mr.  Huntington,  the  artist.  With 
him  I,  once  more,  visited  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  enjoyed  the 
benefit  of  his  criticisms  in  surveying  the  works  of  art,  there  dis- 
played. We  were  interested  to  observe  a  constant  group  of  admir- 
ing spectators  hanging  around  the  Greek  Slave,  of  our  country- 
man, Mr.  Powers.  Other  nude  figures,  although  many  of  them 
were  far  better  calculated  to  appeal  to  coarse  curiosity,  were 
comparatively  neglected,  so  that  we  could  not  but  consider  the 
amount  of  interest  which  this  work  secured,  a  proof  of  some- 
thing superior,  in  its  character.     I  own  that,  for  my  own  part,  I 


BlO  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

do  not  like  it.  The  subject  is  a  sensual  one,  and  does  not  appeal 
to  any  lofty  sentiment.  Beauty  in  chains,  and  exposed  in  the 
shambles,  is  a  loathesome  idea,  at  best. 

I  went  with  Mr*  Huntington  to  the  rooms  of  the  British  Insti- 
tution, in  Pali-Mall,  where  is  a  tine  collection  of  paintings,  by 
British  and  foreign  masters.  It  was  a  great  advantage  to  me  to 
be  prepared  by  the  hints  of  so  eminent  an  artist,  for  my  continen- 
tal tour,  and  often,  in  the  galleries  of  Italy,  I  had  occasion  to 
thank  my  friend  for  enabling  me  to  appreciate  many  things  which 
would,  otherwise,  have  escaped  me.  At  the  exhibition  of  water* 
coloured  paintings,  I  was  astonished,  by  the  rich  collection,  and 
the  exceeding  beauty  of  many  of  the  pictures.  The  fruit,  and 
flower  jneces,  of  Plunt,  were  almost  miracles.  He  paints  a  bird's 
nest,  with  the  eggs,  and  every  straw,  so  perfect,  that  the  bird 
would  infallibly  attempt  to  sit  in  it,  and  he  contrives  to  bestow  it 
in  a  hedge  of  hawthorn,  so  green  and  white,  and  so  entirely  natu- 
ral, that  you  would  not  think  of  taking  the  nest,  without  making 
up  your  mind  to  be  sorely  scratched.  It  would  make  May- 
morning  of  a  winter-day,  to  have  a  few  such  paintings  to  look  at? 
and  no  one  who  loves  nature  could  ever  be  tired  of  them. 

The  weather  was  as  hot,  at  this  time,  in  London,  as  it  is  ordi- 
narily, at  the  same  season,  in  Baltimore  or  New- York.  It  was 
the  middle  of  August,  and  the  moon  being  near  the  full,  the 
nights  were  very  beautiful ;  and  I  observed  it  the  more,  because 
neither  sun  nor  moon  have  much  credit  for  making  London  at- 
tractive. Late  at  night,  I  could  see  the  Wellington  statue  almost 
as  distinctly  from  the  Marble  arch,  as  at  Hyde-park  corner,  and 
the  scenery  of  the  Park,  by  moonlight,  was  enchanting.  When 
shall  we  have  such  parks  in  all  our  large  towns  ? 

Next  day,  with  Huntington,  and  Gray,  both  of  our  National 
Academy,  I  went  out  to  Greenwich  Hospital,  to  survey  the 
place,  and  to  enjoy  a  parting  white-bait  dinner*  We  went  down 
in  a  steamer,  enjoying  the  excursion  the  more  for  our  comparisons 
of  all  we  saw  with  the  Bay  of  New- York,  and  the  Hudson.  It 
was  pleasant,  noAv  and  then,  to  discern  an  American  vessel,  and 
to  know  her  at  once,  by  her  graceful  form,  amid  a  forest  of 
masts. 

Greenwich  is  the  great  outside  park  of  London,  the  resort  of 
thousands  of  her  pleasure-seekers,  of  the  humble  class.  The 
Koyal  Observatory  stands  on  a  commanding  eminence,  and  the 
slope  of  its  hill  towards  the  river,  is  the  favourite  sporting  place 
of  mammas  and  children.     As  a  prime  meridian,  however,  I  al- 


PENSIONERS.  811 

ways  regret  that  it  is  not  deposed,  by  the  religion  of  England, 
which  ought  to  take  the  lead  in  making  Jerusalem  the  starting 
point  for  all  Christian  reckonings.  The  wings  of  the  morning 
should  rise  every  day.  from  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  there  evening 
should  come  down  to  brood,  with  everything  to  make  it  the  first, 
and  the  last  place,  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  a  ransomed  world. 
Greenwich  Hospital  is,  indeed,  a  palace  of  the  poor.  On  the 
terrace,  between  its  wings,  one  cannot  but  be  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  the  greatness  of  a  nation  which  thus  lodges  the  humblest 
of  its  worn-out  defenders.  The  old  pensioners,  hobbling  about, 
in  their  blue  uniforms,  and  cocked-hate,  move  your  profound  re- 
spect. Their  wounds,  and  battered  visages,  seem  to  speak  of 
storm  and  shipwreck,  and  of  shell  and  broadsides,  in  every  cli- 
mate under  heaven.  They  can  tell  wonderful  things  of  Nelson 
and  of  Collingwood  ;  and  all  seem  to  address  you,  like  Burns' 
hero,  with  the  tale, 

"  How  they  served  out  their  trade 
"Wunn  the  Moro  low  was  laid, 

At  the  sound  of  the  drum." 

Ill  "the  Painted  Hall,"  which  is  full  of  pictures  of  naval  battles, 
one  sees  how  terribly  their  pensions  have  been  earned.  There, 
too,  is  shown  the  coat  worn  by  Nelson,  when  he  fell,  and  it  is 
stained  Avith  his  blood.-  It  was  a  comfort  to  turn  from  this  tem- 
ple of  the  Maritime  3Iars,  to  that  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  The 
old  sailors  have  a  superb  chapel,  elaborately  adorned,  and  fur- 
nished with  an  altar-piece,  by  West,  "  the  shipwreck  of  St.  Paul." 
From  a  little  book  which  I  picked  up  in  Paris,  written  by  a 
Frenchman,  and  a  Romanist,  I  gather  that  the  service,  in  such 
places,  in  England,  is  very  impressive,  and  that  the  contrast,  in 
France,  is  not  in  favour  of  the  Romish  religion.  He  describes 
the  chaunting,  and  apparent  devotion  of  the  soldiers,  as  very 
striking ;  and  he  seems  to  have  been  especially  struck  with  their 
responses  to  the  Ten  Commandments.  He  adds — "  all  that  would 
make  us  laugh  in  France :"  and  he  goes  on  to  say — "  if  it  be 
answered  that  our  soldiers  are  at  liberty  to  go  to  mass,  I  reply, 
that's  true  ;  but  for  all  that,  a  young  conscript,  religiously  edu- 
cated at  home,  would  be  ridiculed  so  unsparingly  for  continuing  in 
his  pious  habits,  that  he  could  not  long  resist  the  bad  examples 
of  his  comrades."  At  Greenwich,  the  Bible  and  Prayer-book 
are  the  constant  companions  of  many  an  old  salt ;  and  bad  as  all 
armies  and  navies  must  be,  I  could  not  but  think  that  there  is  a 


312  i ...  i  KhSSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

great   advantage,  in  the  morale,  of  Chelsea  and  Greenwich,  as 
compared  with  the  Invalides. 

We  adjourned  to  our  White-bait — a  fish,  according  to  the  same 
French  authority,  most  delicate  and  delicious,  and  to  be  eaten 
only  at  Greenwich,  because  it  is  necessary  to  transfer  them,  in- 
stantly, from  the  water  to  the  frying-pan,  and  thence  to  the  plate, 
and  because  they  are  fished  only  in  the  Thames.  I  fully  agree 
with  Monsieur,  as  to  the  attractions  of  the  plat,  especially  when 
enjoyed  in  good  company.  The  dinner  ended,  my  friends  accom- 
panied me  to  the  Southwark  station,  at  London,  where  I  had  all 
things  in  readiness  for  a  start :  and  bidding  them  a  warm  fare- 
well, I  reached  Dover  in  a  few  hours,  and  soon  embarked  for 
Ostend.  The  sea  was  calm,  and  heaving  in  long,  broad,  glitter- 
ing swells ;  and  as  the  chalky  cliffs  of  Dover,  gleaming  in  the 
cloudless  moonlight,  gradually  sank  in  the  distance,  I  felt  that  no 
native  Briton  ever  waved  a  more  affectionate  salute  to  the  bright 
isle,  than  that  with  which  I  said  good-night  to  Albion. 


CH  APTEE    XXXV. 


Return —  Conclusion . 

It  was  four  months  later  than  the  incidents  of  my  last  chapter, 
when  after  a  tour  on  the  Continent,  I  found  myself  safely  landed 
at  Dover,  in  the  gray  dawn  of  a  winter's  morning.  I  had  left 
Paris,  in  all  the  frightful  confusion  consequent  upon  the  coup 
(Vetat  of  Louis  Napoleon.  In  touching,  once  more,  the  free  and 
happy  soil  of  England,  if  I  could  not  say — "  This  is  my  own, 
my  native  land,"  I  could  yet  feel  that  it  was  the  sacred  land  of 
my  religion,  of  my  parentage,  and  of  my  mother  tongue.  I  was, 
once  more,  at  home,  and  ceased  to  feel  myself  a  foreigner,  as  I 
had  done  in  France  and  Italy.  How  good  and  honest,  sounded 
again  in  my  ears,  the  language  of  Englishmen !  As  "  bearer  of 
despatches"  from  Paris,  to  our  ambassador  at  London,  I  was 
landed  with  the  advantage  of  precedence,  and  very  rapidly  pass- 
ed through  the  custom-house.  The  state  of  things  in  France, 
and  the  feverish  anxiety,  in  England,  to  learn  the  changes  of 
every  hour,  invested  my  trifling  diplomatic  dignity  with  a 
momentary  importance,  strikingly  diverse  from  its  insignificance 
at  other  times:  and  I  was  amused  to  see  how  much  curiosity  was 
felt  by  the  officials  as  to  the  mighty  communications  which  might 
be  going  up  to  London  in  my  portmanteau.  Even  an  old  salt, 
as  I  stepped  ashore,  could  not  forbear  accosting  me  with — "  Any 
news  this  morning,  yer  honour  ?"  '  Bad  news,'  said  I,  '  the  French- 
men are  going  to  have  a  bloody  day  of  it ;  be  thankful  you  are 
an  Englishman.'  "  So  I  am,  your  honour,"  was  his  hearty,  and 
most  honest  reply. 

I  had  been  travelling  in  Southern  Europe,  where,  to  borrow  a 
thought   of  Dr.  Arnold's,  no   one  can  be  sure  that  anything  is 

14 


314  IMPRESSIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 

real,  which  he  seems  to  see:  where  Savans  are  not  scholars — 
where  captains  are  not  soldiers — nor  judges  lawyers — where 
noblemen  are  not  men  of  honour — where  priests  are  not  pure — 
nor  wives  and  matrons  chaste.  I  was,  again,  in  the  land  of  facts, 
a  land  deeply  involved,  indeed,  in  the  sins  and  miseries  of  a  fal- 
len world ;  but  still  a  land,  where,  for  centuries,  everything  has 
been  steadily  advancing  towards  a  high  realization  of  human 
capabilities,  alike  in  the  physical,  and  mental,  and  moral  of  man's 
nature.  I  was  once  more  in  a  land  where  it  is  base  to  lie ;  where 
domestic  purity  and  piety  find  their  noblest  illustrations,  whether 
in  palaces  or  cottages ;  and  where  not  even  luxury  and  pride  have 
been  able  to  vitiate  the  general  conviction  of  all  classes,  that 
righteousness  alone  exalteth  a  nation,  and  that  sin  is  a  reproach 
to  any  people. 

On  arriving  in  London,  my  very  first  employment  was  to  visit 
the  tomb  of  the  holy  Bishop  Andrewes,  at  St.  Mary's,  Southwark. 
The  prelate  is  represented,  at  full  length,  stretched  upon  his 
sepulchre,  and  right  dear  it  was,  after  long  tarrying  amid  the 
monuments  of  popes  and  cardinals,  to  behold,  once  more,  that  of 
an  honest  and  true  man,  and  a  saint  of  God,  who,  in  his  day 
and  generation,  was  "  a  burning  and  a  shining  light."  The  tomb 
of  the  exemplary  and  amiable  poet  Gower,  is  also  in  this  Church, 
and  has  often  been  described. 

Attending  Evening  Service  at  Westminster  Abbey,  on  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday,  I  was  so  much  struck  with  the  effect  produced 
by  the  light  of  candles,  in  the  choir,  that  it  seemed  to  me,  I  had 
never  before  fully  felt  the  wonderful  impressiveness  of  that 
Church,  nor  even  of  the  church  service.  The  surpliced  singers, 
ranged  in  their  stalls — the  many  faces  of  the  worshippers — and 
the  lofty  arches  of  the  sombre  architecture  received  a  new  aspect, 
from  the  mingled  light  and  shade,  and  the  tones  of  worship  were 
imbued,  by  association,  with  something  strange  and  solemn. 
Deep  under  the  vaultings  lay  the  shadows,  and  here  and  there 
shone  out  a  marble  figure,  or  glimmered  a  clustered  column. 
When  the  organ  sent  its  tremulous  tide  far  down  the  nave,  it 
seemed  to  come  back  in  echoes,  like  the  waves  of  the  sea — the 
more  effective,  because  of  the  distance  through  which  it  had 
stretched  and  rolled  the  surge  of  sound ;  and  when  the  respon- 
sive Amens  rose,  one  after  the  other,  from  the  voices  of  the 
singers,  plaintively  interrupting  the  petitions,  and  marking  the 
impressive  stillness  of  the  intervals  between,  which  were  filled 
only  with  the  low  monotone  of  prayer,  then  I  felt  how  amiable 


st.  Bartholomew's.  315 

are  the  temples  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  how  fair  a  resemblance 
of  that  temple  not  made  with  hands,  where  they  rest  not,  day 
nor  night,  from  their  hymns,  and  responsive  praises.  By  the 
sides  of  the  altar  flared  two  immense  wax  light?,  giving  a  fine 
effect  to  the  sanctuary.     After  the  Second  Lesson,  the  preacher, 

Canon  C ,  ascended  the  pulpit,  in  his  surplice,  and  preached 

the  sermon ;  after  which,  the  Evening  Prayer  continued,  as  after 
a  baptism,  the  choir  taking  up  theJYtme  diinittis.  followed  by  the 
creed,  the  collects,  the  anthem,  and  the  prayers,  while  the  organ 
thundered  through  the  lengths  and  heights  of  the  abbey.  I  join- 
ed the  throng  which  passed  down  the  nave,  and  looking  back 
again  and  again,  I  received  such  powerful  impressions  of  the  sub- 
limity of  the  place,  as  had  been  wholly  wanting  to  the  effect  by 
daylight,  as  experienced  on  former  occasions.  One  parting  look 
through  the  western  door,  through  the  dimly  illuminated  per- 
spective, and  then  I  turned  slowly  and  thoughtfully  away.  On 
the  preceding  Sunday.  I  had  left  the  cathedral  service,  at  Rouen, 
in  circumstances  precisely  similar,  and  my  mind  naturally  fell 
into  a  comparative  train  of  thought.  There  was  a  great  simi- 
larity in  the  effects  produced  on  the  senses  by  the  two  services. 
A  stranger  to  the  Latin  and  English  languages,  would  have  failed 
to  note  any  marked  difference  between  them.  He  would  have 
recognized  the  Catholic  unities  of  the  two  rites,  and  would  have 
failed  to  observe  their  diversities,  papal  and  reformed.  The 
French  sermon  had  been  vastly  better  than  the  English  one :  the 
former  was  preached  by  an  orator,  the  latter  by  a  spiritless  and 
formal  favourite  of  Lord  John  Russell.  Yet,  between  the  two 
solemnities,  in  their  entire  effect,  the  disparity  was  greatly  in 
favour  of  the  English  service,  which  was  audibly  and  reverently 
performed,  while  the  other  was  mumbled,  and  not  understood  by 
the  congregation.  I  felt  that  the  Church  of  England  was  strong, 
if  compared  with  that  of  France,  in  her  heritage  of  Catholic 
and  Apostolic  truth,  as  distinguished  from  the  systematic  false- 
hoods, which  have  made  the  religion  of  the  other,  a  mere  fable, 
in  the  general  estimation  of  the  French  people. 

At  a  later  hour,  the  same  evening,  it  was  my  lot  to  preach  in 
St.  Bartholomew's,  Moor-lane,  in  the  pulpit  once  filled  by  the 
worthy  Archbishop  Sharpe.  The  incumbent  of  this  Church  had 
lately  discovered  at  Sion  College  a  collection  of  papers  and 
books  once  belonging  to  the  saintly  Bishop  Wilson;  and  he 
placed  hi  my  hands,  for  that  evening,  the  original  Sacra  Privata 
of  that  holy  and  venerable  prelate.     I  could  not  but  think  how 


316  IMPRESSIONS   OF    ENGLAND. 

much  we  may  owe  it  to  his  prayers,  that  the  Church  of  England 
is  now  what  she  is,  as  compared  with  what  she  was  in  his  day ; 
and,  in  preaching,  I  took  great  delight  in  paying  a  parting 
tribute  to  that  Church,  as  compared  with  the  churches  of  the 
continent. 

I  am  convinced  that  the  debt  which  England  and  the  world 
owe  to  the  Anglican  Keformers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  has 
never  been  properly  appreciated.  Like  the  air  which  we  breathe, 
but  do  not  perceive,  the  spirit  with  which  they  have  invested 
the  religion  of  England,  is  that  of  life  and  health.  They  banish- 
ed nothing  but  the  fogs  and  noxious  exhalations  of  the  middle 
ages ;  and,  as  the  result,  we  find  England  hale  and  hearty,  and 
bearing  more  fruit  in  her  age.  while  the  churches  which  allowed 
the  Tridentine  vapours  to  become  their  atmosphere,  are  perishing 
in  the  agues  and  fevers  of  a  long  and  ghastly  decline.  Look  at 
Spain  and  Italy  ! 

And  I  cannot  forbear,  in  conclusion,  to  remark,  that  when 
American  travellers  go  to  England,  and  copy  the  false  statistics 
of  some  infidel  almanac,  to  justify  their  railings  against  the 
National  Church,  they  are  about  as  wise  as  John  Bull  is,  when 
he  takes  the  statistics  of  our  (immigrant)  pauperism  and  crime,  as 
a  test  of  the  true  state  of  American  society.  It  is  true  that 
there  are  great  abuses  connected  with  the  establishment ;  and  it 
is  also  true  that  they  are  deplored  by  no  class  of  Englishmen, 
half  so  much  as  they  are  by  the  true  churchman.  If  the  Church 
could  be  left  to  herself,  they  would  be  immediately  reformed  ;  but 
the  very  creatures  who  rail  at  her,  because  of  them,  are  they 
who  refuse  to  give  her  the  freedom  which  she  claims,  and  who  do 
the  most  to  enslave  her  to  the  State  power.  I  am  no  friend  to 
that  power  in  the  Church  of  God  ;  but  they  who  prate  against 
the  church,  because  of  her  misfortunes,  deserve  the  rebuke  of  all 
thinking  men,  whose  knowledge  of  history,  and  of  the  existing 
state  of  the  world,  enables  them  to  compare  what  has  been  done 
for  England,  by  that  church,  even  in  her  fetters,  with  what  all 
other  religions  put  together  have  done  for  the  residue  of  the  world. 
When  we  reflect  upon  the  three  great  achievements  of  that  Church 
for  English  liberty — the  Eeformation,  the  Restoration  of  the 
Constitution  and  Monarchy,  and  the  repudiation  of  the  Popish 
Stuarts,  we  may  well  afford  to  laugh  at  such  sneers  as  a  Macau- 
lay  endeavours  to  raise  against  her,  on  the  ground  of  blemishes 
with  which  his  own  reckless  and  treacherous  political  allies  have 
deformed  and  afflicted  her.     And  when  we  attempt  to  estimate 


DISSENTERS.  317 

the  blessings  she  has  diffused  through  the  whole  Anglo-Saxon  peo- 
ple, and  by  them  through  the  world,  who  can  refrain  from,  blessing 
the  dear  Church  which  has  placed  the  English  Bible  in  every  cot- 
tage, and  which,  for  three  centuries,  has  read  the  Ten  Command- 
merits,  every  Lord's  day.  in  the  ears  of  millions  of  the  people?  It 
is  only  when  we  think  of  what  that  Church  has  done,  in  spite  of 
the  golden  chains  which  fetter  her,  and  in  spite  of  the  political 
miscreants  who  have  always  hung  like  hounds  upon  her  heels 
and  hands,  that  we  can  rightly  estimate  her  strong  vitality,  and 
her  vast  beneficence. 

And  let  it  be  remembered,  too.  that  all  that  is  good  among  Eng- 
lish dissenters,  is  sucked  from  the  Church,  as  the  parasite  derives  its 
nourishment  from  the  oak.  The  dissenters  are  mainly  the  small- 
tradesmen  of  England,  a  people  intelligent  enough  to  perceive  the 
faults  of  their  hereditary  religion,  but  not  generally  enlightened 
enough  to  know  its  value  and  its  services  to  themselves.  They 
are  like  the  Dutch  boors,  who  thought  the  sun  did  no  good 
among  the  Flemings,  because  they  saw  it  >o  seldom,  and  who 
concluded  that  daylight  came  from  the  clouds,  which  were 
always  visible.  Whoever  will  take  the  pains  to  contrast  the  dis- 
senters of  England  with  those  of  Germany,  will  learn  how  much 
even  they  derive  from  the  Church,  against  which  they  so  igno- 
rant ly  rail. 

I  desire  to  speak  with  great  respect  of  many  of  the  dissei 
of  England,  who,  like  their  estimable  Doddridge,  are  such  by  the 
force  of  circumstances  only,  while  they  love  and  revere  the  Church 
of  the  nation  ;  but  I  have  known  even  American  Presbyterians  to 
experience  the  greatest  revulsion  of  feeling  against  the  mass  of 
English  dissenters,  after  actual  contact  with  their  coarse  and 
semi-political  religionism.  I  was  not  less  surprised  than  gratified, 
moreover,  to  observe  very  lately,  in  a  widely  circulated  American 
newspaper,  edited  by  eminent  Presbyterians,  a  full  vindication  of 
the  Church  of  England  from  the  odious  and  false  views  current 
among  us  in  America,  with  respect  to  the  system  of  tithes.  The 
writer  was  himself  an  English  or  Irish  dissenter,  and  he  frankly 
asserted  the  fact,  that  in  paving  his  tithes,  he  suffered  no  wrong, 
and  contributed  nothing  to  the  establishment,  which  did  not  be- 
long to  her.  "  In  short,"  said  he.  "  the  Church  own*  one-tenth 
oi  my  rent,  and  I  am  quite  as  willing  to  pay  it  to  her.  as  to  pay 
the  nine-tenths  to  my  other  landlord."  The  nine-tenths  might 
go  to  a  popish  priest ;  but  does  he  who  pays  it  contribute  to  up- 


318  IMPRESSIONS   OF  ENGLAND. 

hold  Popery  ?  No  more  than  one  who  hires  his  house  of  a  play- 
actor, supports  the  stage. 

But  although  the  decline  of  dissent,  in  England,  is  universally 
admitted,  it  is  generally  imagined  that  Popery  is  growing.  So  it 
is  if  the  immigration  from  Ireland,  of  thousands  of  navvies,  who 
have  built  Romish  chapels  and  convents,  out  of  their  earnings 
on  the  railways,  be  the  basis  of  the  remark.  But  nothing  was 
ever  more  over-rated  than  the  late  Apostacy,  which  is  the  fruit 
of  a  mere  personal  influence,  over  a  few  young  men  at  Oxford, 
gained  by  one  brilliant  sophist,  and  perniciously  directed  by  him 
towards  ultramontane  Romanism.  It  has  spent  itself  already  in 
a  spasmodic  revolt  against  common  sense,  which  is  breeding  a  re- 
action towards  rationalism:  but  the  Church  of  England  is  as 
much  in  danger  from  Irvingism  as  from  oSewmanism ;  and  "Wes- 
leyanism  was  vastly  more  energetic  against  her  than  either.  The 
chagrin  and  disappointment  of  Mr.  Newman  himself  is  most  appa- 
rent. After  numbering  the  "educated  men"  whom  he  had  in- 
volved in  his  own  downfall  as  a  hundred,  he  confesses  that  their 
defection  from  the  Church  has  scarcely  been  felt  by  her.  "  The 
huge  creature  from  which  they  went  forth,"  he  says,  "  showed  no 
consciousness  of  its  loss,  but  shook  itself,  and  went  about  its  work  as 
of  old  time"  Yes,  but  with  a  newer  and  mightier  energy  than  ever 
before,  and  that  in  both  hemispheres.  The  unhappy  man  seems 
to  have  imagined  that  by  getting  into  a  balloon,  he  could  kick  the 
earth  from  its  orbit :  but  the  planet  still  revolves  around  the  sun, 
while  he  dangles  around  it,  lost  in  the  brilliant  clouds  of  his  own 
imaginations,  and  fancying  his  petty  elevation  as  sublime  as  her 
pathway  through  the  skies. 

In  the  same  manner,  the  Dublin  reviewers  are  continually  de- 
ploring their  powerless  expenditure  of  vast  resources  against  the 
religion  of  England,  which  stands  in  its  fortress  of  Scriptural 
truth,  more  impregnable  than  Gibraltar.  Let  the  reader  reflect, 
for  a  minute,  on  the  essential  characteristic  of  the  Anglican  Re- 
formation, as  it  began  under  "Wycliif,  in  a  translation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  then  weigh  the  importance  of  the  following  citation 
from  a  Romish  periodical. 

"Who  will  not  say,"  says  the  Dublin  Review,  "that  the  un- 
common beauty  and  marvellous  English  of  the  Bible  is  not  one 
of  the  great  strongholds  of  heresy  in  this  country.  It  lives  on 
the  ear  like  a  music  that  can  never  be  forgotten,  like  the  sound 
of  the  church-bell,  which  the  convert  hardly  knows  how  he  can  forego. 
Its  felicities  often  seem  to  be  almost  tilings  rather  than  mere 


ENGLISH   BIBLE.  319 

words.  It  is  part  of  the  national  mind,  and  the  anchor  of 
national  seriousness.  The  memory  of  the  dead  passes  into  it. 
The  potent  traditions  of  childhood  are  stereotyped  in  its  verses. 
The  power  of  all  the  gifts  and  trials  of  a  man  is  hidden  beneath 
its  words.  It  is  the  representative  of  his  best  moments,  and  all 
that  there  has  been  about  him  of  soft,  and  gentle,  and  pure,  and 
penitent,  and  good,  speaks  to  him  forever  out  of  the  English 
Bible.  It  is  his  sacred  thing,  which  doubt  has  never  dimmed, 
and  controversy  never  soiled.  In  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land,  there  is  not  a  Protestant  with  one  spark  of  righteousness 
about  him,  whose  spiritual  biography  is  not  in  his  Saxon  Bible." 

Action  and  reaction  are  always  equal ;  and  it  is  my  own 
opinion  that  the  hand  of  God  is  visible  in  the  permission  of  the 
late  scandals,  and  their  sequel  will  demonstrate  that  He  has 
been  infusing  into  modern  Romanism  a  spirit  which  will  blow  it 
to  atoms.  Among  the  beardless  boys,  who  have  swelled  the 
numerical  strength  of  the  apostacy,  there  are  some  prodigals 
who  will  yet  come  to  themselves,  and  remember  their  father's 
house  with  penitent  tears:  and  as  to  their  leaders,  the  ex-Jesuit 
Steinmetz  in  his  narrative  of  a  residence  at  Stoneyhurst,  intro- 
duces the  following  striking  view  of  the  ease,  which  Bostains 
my  own  impressions.  "  Though  the  men  of  Rome,"  he  - 
••exult  in  this  reaction  (as  they  call  it)  which  is  making  Oscott 
a  refug'wm  peccatonnn.  perhaps  from  among  the  very  men  whose 
captive  chains  clank  in  their  triumphal  thanksgiving,  there  will 
be  shot  the  lethalis  arundo,  the  deadly  arrow  that  will  pierce 
and  cling  to  the  side  of  their  mother  church  in  the  appointed 
time.  It  is  not  children  that  they  are  receiving ;  but  full- 
grown  men.  accustomed  most  pertinaciously  to  think  for  them- 
Belves.  They  began  with  being  reformers,  and  it  must  be  con- 
fessed with  some  of  the  boldness  of  reformers.  Will  they  be 
content  to  change  their  skins  ?  To  become  sheep,  from  having 
been,  as  it  were,  wolves?  To  smother  the  cunning  and  the 
clever  thought,  which  seems  so  flattering  to  one's  own  vanity, 
in  the  cold,  dead  ashes  of  papal  infallibility?  We  shall  see." 
This  is  reasonable,  and  consoling.  We  may  not  live  to  see 
it ;  but  a  rebellion  against  Truth  must  have  its  rebound,  and 
Church  and  State  will  be  stronger  for  such  rebellions  in  the 
end. 

If  then,  the  decline  of  English  art-  and  arms  be  near,  of 
which  I  am  by  no  means  as  confident  as  some,  it  will  be  a  very 
slow  decline,  and  coincident  with  a  new  glory,  and  a  brighter 


320  IMPEESSIONS  OF  ENGLAND. 

one,  than  England  yet  has  known.  Instead  of  armies,  she  is  now 
sending  forth  soldiers  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  She  has  discover- 
ed that  it  is  cheaper  and  wiser  to  sustain  missionaries  than  bayo- 
nets. The  era  of  her  greatest  work  is  before  her.  She  is  to  be- 
come the  nursing  mother  of  nations,  and  in  her  language,  the 
sound  of  the  Gospel  is  to  go  forth  into  all  lands,  and  unto  the 
end  of  the  world.  Hers  is  the  deposit  of  the  faith  once  delivered 
to  the  saints.  The  Roman  Churches  have  divorced  themselves 
from  the  promises,  and  in  the  Catholicity  of  England  chiefly  is 
fulfilled  the  promise  of  Christ,  to  be  always  with  His  own  Apos- 
tolic commission,  even  to  the  end  of  the  world.  At  the  same 
time,  there  is  a  moral  life  in  English  society,  which  must  long 
salt  the  State,  and  preserve  it  from  decay.  I  appeal  to  the 
common  sense  of  Christian  men,  and  I  ask,  in  what  other  coun- 
try under  heaven  is  there  such  a  mass  of  domestic  and  social 
purity  ?  Where  else  is  there  so  large  a  benevolence,  so  mascu- 
line a  religion,  so  enlightened  a  conscience,  among  any  people  % 
England  has  her  shame  as  well  as  her  glory ;  she  is  part  and  par- 
cel of  a  sinful  world ;  but  her  light  is  not  hid  under  a  bushel : 
and  if  the  hope  of  the  world  be  not  in  her  candle,  I  am  at  a  loss 
to  know  where  to  find  encouragement  as  a  Christian,  that  the 
Gospel  is  to  become  universal.  I  believe,  indeed,  that  my  own 
country  is  to  share,  with  her,  this  magnificent  career  of  peaceful 
conquest.  We  are  bone  of  her  bone,  and  flesh  of  her  flesh :  but 
I  believe,  also,  that  before  we  can  heal  the  nations,  we  must  first 
heal  ourselves  of  the  wretched  religious  anarchy  which  is  the 
bane  of  our  education,  our  society,  and  our  National  character. 

After  lingering  for  a  few  days  in  the  society  of  my  friends,  in 
London  and  Oxford,  I  was,  once  more,  for  a  short  time,  the  guest 
of  the  friend  to  whom  this  memorial  is  inscribed,  and  met  at  his 
table,  again,  the  venerable  Vicar,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to 
welcome  me  to  England.  To  part  with  such  friends,  and  their 
families,  perhaps  forever,  was  only  to  become  aware  how  deeply 
I  had  entwined  with  theirs,  my  brotherly  feelings  and  Christian 
regards.  But  I  had  been  long  enough  enjoying  myself  amid  the 
scenes  and  friendships  which  even  our  holy  religion,  while  it 
alone  can  produce  them,  forbids  to  our  self-indulgence,  in  a  world 
where  every  Christian  is  called  to  the  work  of  a  missionary. 
Much  as  I  longed  to  mingle  in  the  delights  of  an  English  Christ- 
mas, I  felt  the  call  of  duty,  and  the  blessedness  of  giving  as  greater 
than  that  of  receiving.  My  own  parishioners  expected  to  see 
me  at  the  altar,  on  the  approaching  feast,  and  my  heart  warmed 


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towards  them,  as  deserving  my  best  endeavours  to  gratify  their 
reasonable  wishes.  Thanks,  under  God,  to  the  good  steamer 
Baltic,  and  its  skillful  commander,  I  escaped  the  perils  of  a  win- 
try sea,  and  on  Christmas-eve,  was  restored  to  my  flock,  and 
family,  in  Hartford.  On  the  following  day,  as  I  celebrated  the 
Holy  Eucharist,  I  trust  it  was  not  without  befitting  gratitude  to 
God,  nor  without  a  new  and  profound  sense  of  the  blessings  we 
owe  to  him,  whose  Gospel  is  the  spirit  of  "  peace  on  earth,  and 
of  good- will  to  men." 


!  m 


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